Harry Potter and the Sorting Hat
by MsFrizzle
Summary: Harry and his friends enter their fifth year, they face new plots and tribulations where nothing is ever as it seems. As Voldemort power increases, both he and Dumbledore seek allies.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

This story is an AU fifth book and is cannon up though the fourth book.

Dear readers,

I feel I owe you a bit of explanation before you start. First I would like to thank Cordria who encouraged me to give this a try despite my misgivings.

This story was originally written for and with my children. We were reading the books together and there was a long gap between when the fourth and fifth book came out. While we were waiting, I decided to write our own. Part of the motivation was as an exercise to encourage my children who had always leaned toward the math side of academics to work on their weak writing and reading skills.

I was not trying to copy Rowling's style but for the private pleasure of sharing this literary experience with my children. At the time I did not participate in the wider world of fanfic or even know of its existence. If I had I would have actively avoided it, if for no other reason than it is overwhelming.

Before the story could be completed, the real books were published and the movies had been produced, and my children had grown up. One of the reasons it was not pursued further was because of how the story compared with the real thing, both in the things that I guessed wrong and maybe more so in the things I guessed correctly. It is natural for anyone reading this to assume that I just appropriated the ideas that were later revealed. I assure you that anything past the fourth book was purely my conjecture. Have in mind that J.K. Rowling is an excellent writer and placed the seeds for future events are in the earlier books, giving me much to build on.

Although, it would probably embarrass them, I want to express my gratitude and love to my children and the opportunity they gave me to share an appreciation for the wonderful world of Harry Potter.

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Harry Potter and the Sorting Hat

Chapter 1 Rats

The summer sun beat down on the quiet row of houses along Privet Drive, bathing everything in a haze of heat. It was very still; the heat seemed intent on baking the energy out of everything. Even the birds seemed too listless to stir. From inside the air-conditioned houses the faint sound of TV's and radios reporting on the heat wave was almost the only sign that anything lived along the street.

In fact the only movement at all seemed to come from a teenaged boy crouched over in the middle of the lawn. His jet black hair stuck up where it wasn't plastered to his face with sweat. He was working steadily at pulling weeds, pausing now and then to wipe at his face to keep the sweat out of his eyes, which were a startling green. The movement momentarily exposed the curious lightening-shaped scar on his forehead. He was actually about to turn fifteen, but being small and skinny could have passed fro being younger. The boy's name was Harry Potter.

Although he lived in this house, it did not feel like home to him. As he worked, his mind strayed back to his school where he had spent the school terms since age eleven. For most boys, the thought of school in mid-summer was comfortably far away, but for Harry it was uncomfortably far away. He was far more comfortable at school than he was with his Aunt and Uncle even though they were the only family he had.

His school was a most unusual place for Harry was a young wizard. He had just completed his fourth year of study at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He thought of the huge stone castle with its myriad of towers, staircases, wide ground and classrooms. Harry even thought he wouldn't' mind being in Snape's (his least favorite teacher) classroom. At least the dungeon would be cool. He felt a pang of homesickness and touched the letter that was in his pocket just to hear it crackle. It had been delivered by an owl last week.

As much as he missed Hogwarts, he missed his friends even more. The letter was from his friend, Ron Weasley.

Ron was going to Romania with his brother Charlie who worked at a dragon reservation. In the letter, Ron told him that his parents had asked Dumbledore if Harry could go with them but Dumbledore had said that maybe Harry could visit later in the summer when Ron got back. Harry sighed and yanked at a particularly stubborn weed.

Dumbledore was the headmaster of Hogwarts and the greatest wizard alive. He knew Dumbledore had his reasons for not allowing Harry to go, but he really wished Dumbledore would explain it to him. He guessed that by staying with the Dursleys he got some sort of protection.

Harry didn't like thinking about why he needed protection. He was not alone in that; most witches and wizards were so afraid of the dark wizard that had tried to kill him that they wouldn't even say his name.

"You would think that I'd get used to it by now," Harry told himself.

After all, Lord Voldemort had been trying to kill him practically since he was born. In fact, he was famous for it. Harry had only found out about it when he was first told he was a wizard four years ago, but it seemed that everyone else in the wizarding world already knew that his scar was a relic from a powerful curse. Voldemort had killed his parents and had tried to kill him. No one knew why, least of all Harry. It seemed that each year since he had first heard of the dark wizard, Voldemort or one of his followers had tried to finish what they had started fourteen years ago.

Harry stabbed at the ground and yanked viciously at a stubborn dandelion as he thought of how his summer had started.

.

.

When Harry Potter had followed his Uncle Vernon from the train station he thought he was ready to face whatever came. He now felt he couldn't have been more wrong.

His uncle walked a few paces in front of Harry as if to give the other passerby's the impression that he had nothing to do with the skinny fourteen-year –old pushing the loaded trolley behind him. Perhaps it was the trolley Uncle Vernon wanted to dissociate himself from. It was piled with such an odd assortment of trunks, and packages, and topped off with a large cage in which a snowy owl sat squinting in the glare of daylight, that Harry could barely see to guide the trolley. His Uncle did not approve of the way people kept turning to look at the peculiar baggage.

After his initial grunt by way of greeting, Uncle Vernon didn't speak to Harry until they reached the car, buckled in, and were driving back toward Privet Drive. Harry had nothing in common with Mr. Vernon Dursley except a mutual feeling of gloom at being back in each others presence again.

One particular point of misery was his cousin, Dudley. His Aunt and Uncle thought Dudley was the handsomest, cleverest, and most wonderful boy there could ever be. Harry knew him to be a stupid, mean bully and the most spoiled brat he had ever encountered. True, Dudley had stopped trying to use Harry as a punching bag ever since Harry had returned from his first year at Hogwarts but that didn't meant he hadn't found other ways of getting Harry 's goat. Harry wasn't looking forward to seeing Dudley.

Harry's Aunt and Uncle usually tried to pretend to neighbors that they didn't have a nephew so Harry was surprised when his uncle detoured from the route home and after a few turnings onto side streets, pulled into the driveway of a small but painstakingly manicured lawn. His uncle got out and walked to the front door and knocked. A man dressed as neatly as his lawn came out, spoke to his uncle for a few moments, and then followed him to the car and got in.

Harry had difficulty suppressing his urge to ask who the man was. Asking questions had always been a taboo at the Dursleys but it was hard to fit back into old patterns after a year at school. He could see his Uncle glaring at him in the rear view mirror and decided he would find out soon enough without asking.

"Is this the boy?" the man asked in precise, clipped tones.

"No, that is our nephew. Totally hope. No point in wasting good money tutoring him."

Tutoring? Harry wondered what Mr. Dursley was talking about. He knew his aunt and uncle found his school and what he learned there abhorrent, but he couldn't imagine them spending money to have him tutored in Muggle subjects.

"I have hired you to tutor my son, Dudley," Mr. Vernon continued, grinding his teeth, "He attends Smeltings and they have informed me that he must be tutored if he is to return next year. Smeltings has very high standards. I expect you to prepare Dudley to meet those standards."

"In which subjects am I to instruct your son?" the man asked in the same clipped voice.

"Here," grunted Uncle Vernon and he handed the man a thick envelope with the Smeltings letterhead. The man scanned the letter.

"I see, all of them," he said dryly.

Harry was glad he was in the back seat because he was able to duck down and hide his grin. Evidently his slow-witted cousin was in danger of getting kicked out of school because his marks were so poor. Remembering how the Dursleys had gloated when they thought Harry would be the one to attend the local high school, made Harry clamp his hands over his mouth to prevent laughter from escaping.

If he had known what was in store for him, he would have wept instead.

Aunt Petunia was waiting at the door to greet the tutor. To Harry she hissed, "Take your things to your room and be quiet."

Dudley looked sullenly out of piggish eyes in his fat face. "I don't want to have a tutor. This is supposed to be my summer holidays."

Dudley is a very bright boy," Aunt Petunia said to the tutor while patting her son on the shoulder and beaming proudly. "I know you will enjoy working with him."

The man looked doubtfully at Mrs. Dursley's pride and joy. Dudley was very fat. When Harry had last seen him, Dudley was supposed to be on a diet. The diet obviously had no apparent effect, but Harry was taken aback at how much taller Dudley was. Atop the massive frame were the same slicked-down blond hair and the same sneer Harry remembered.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley escorted the tutor into the living room. After glaring at Harry silently for a moment, Dudley followed resentfully. Harry resolved to keep out of Dudley's way as much as possible. He heaved his belongings up the stairs and hung Hedwig's cage on its stand. He had barely time to release Hedwig from her cage when he heard the sound of shouting.

"I cannot teach such a nasty, belligerent, stupid boy!"

"How dare you speak about my son in such a manner?" thundered Mr. Dursley's voice "Leave my house, at once!"

"With pleasure!" came the clipped tone. This was followed by the sound of the front door slamming so hard, the panes rattled.

"Obviously, quite unsuited to teach!" Mr. Dursley huffed.

.

.

The next day a woman arrived in a tailored skirt and jacket. She left even faster saying a boy the age of Dudley was far too old to throw a tantrum like a two year old. Mr. Dursley slammed the door after her.

Over the next week a parade of prospective tutors came and went in rapid succession. Harry found it highly amusing to see his Aunt and Uncle being told by so many people what an ill-mannered, spoiled brat their son was. Harry had been longing to tell them that for years.

On the other hand, Harry deemed it would be prudent to stay out of the Dursley's way. Harry was the only one around on whom they could vent their anger. Fortunately, Harry was too fast for the lumbering Dudley to catch most of the time, but at meal times Harry was expected to join them at table. Harry ate as rapidly as possible, while trying to avoid sharp raps form Dudley's Smelting stick. His aunt and uncle glared at him and told him what a bad influence he had been on Dudley.

"Wash up the dishes," Aunt Petunia ordered. "I have to get Dudley 's clothes ready." AS if clothes would make a difference, Harry thought.

"But Mother, I don't want to see another tutor," whined Dudley. "They're always so unfair."

Aunt Petunia murmured something sympathetic into Dudley's ear as she bent over to kiss his forehead.

"Now, Duddy-kins," his mother coaxed, "it wouldn't hurt to just meet him."

Dudley screwed his face up, preparing for a tantrum. He had gotten a lot of practice at them lately. "But I don't want to. They are always so mean. I try so hard but they just don't like me!" Dudley wailed.

"I'm sure this one will be better," soothed Uncle Vernon, "He had better be. It's the last one." He too bent over to give his son a reassuring embrace. When he straightened, Dudley was holding a ten pound note in his fat fist. Dudley's tears stopped instantly as he noticed Harry watching.

"It's not my fault; he makes me nervous," Dudley said taking another swipe at Harry. Harry danced backwards and hastily began clearing the table.

His uncle turned his fury on him. "As soon as you've cleaned up breakfast, I want you in your room." Harry was only too happy to comply.

"After you've straightened up the living room. It must be ready when the tutor arrives," his aunt snapped.

Mrs. Dursley led Dudley off, promising to take him out for ice cream if he tried real hard with his tutor. Harry scrubbed the pans, cleared the table, and washed the dishes. He then went into the living room to confront the results of Dudley's last tantrum. Furniture had been knocked over, books and papers had been shredded like confetti. Glass crunched underfoot where a vase had been smashed. The mantle piece which was usually covered with pictures of Dudley had been swept clean. It was the only clean spot.

Harry had once been in a classroom that had looked this bad. But the mess the pixies had made was cleared with a wave from Flitwick's wand. Harry wished he could just wave his wand and clean up the mess. Uncle Vernon would probably lock him in his room it he knew harry had even thought about it. Tat as starting to sound appealing. If he was sent to his room, he could at least get started on his own school work.

Harry would be entering his fifth year after the summer and would be taking his O.W.L's. It seemed his teachers had decided that the summer holidays would be a good time to start preparing even though the tests were almost a year away. Harry didn't mid the work as much as one might think. While he was working, he could pretend that he was back at Hogwarts. Despite the events of last year, Harry as homesick for the imposing castle.

Unfortunately, using magic would do more than send Harry to his room. It would get him expelled from Hogwarts all together. The use of magic by underage wizards outside of school was strictly forbidden. Harry sighed and began dragging a chair over to the window so he could hang the curtains back up.

Harry was just finishing up when the door bell rang, announcing the arrival of the latest tutor. Mrs. Dursley stuck her head in to make sure the room as in order and noticed Harry standing there with the rubbish pan in his hands.

"Out!" she hissed. Then she paused. "Go make some tea. Use the good china. Don't break it."

"If you don't want it broken, don't serve tea while Dudley is throwing tantrums," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Don't you get cheeky with me," said Aunt Petunia, her eyes narrowing to slits, "Harry straighten up. You look scruffy."

Harry rearranged his clothes as best he could and made a pass at his hair. Neither had much effect. The clothes because they were hopelessly too big for him, being the hand-me-downs from Dudley and his hair because it just grew that way. It would never lie flat no matter what he did.

Ten minutes later, Harry brought the tea tray into the living room. Things seemed to be going rather unusually well. True, Dudley didn't look exactly tolerant, but at least he wasn't shouting insults and the furniture seemed to be more or less where Harry had left it. Harry surmised his aunt and uncle had promised Dudley a really big bribe.

Spread out across the coffee table was a series of colorful picture books, the ones for beginning readers with large type and words that all had the same ending. Dudley was struggling to sound out words that ended in "at". Harry made room for the tea tray and started to pour tea as unobtrusively as possible. Maybe after this, he could get away upstairs before Aunt Petunia thought of something else for him to do.

"Sss….at. sat," said Dudley.

"Good," said the teacher approvingly, "go on."

"d..d…..d," Dudley tried.

"No that's a "B," the tutor said in a mild voice.

"b…b..at", Dudley actually smiled at his accomplishment. Harry admired the tutor's patience as he poured tea for Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. They ignored him; all their attention was on Dudley.

"f….f….f…at," continued Dudley.

Harry couldn't help it. There was something so ludicrous about watching the obese boy trying to read "fat". His lips twitched into a grin as he handed the tutor a cup a tea. The tutor caught Harry's expression and an answering smile twitched on his own lips. He was a young man and as neatly dressed as the other prospective tutors but his brown eyes glittered as he looked into Harry's face with a lively interest.

Dudley must have realized that he no longer held the undivided attention of his audience and looked up.

"What are you doing here? Get out!" he yelled furiously. Sounding out all those words was hard work and he wanted to take his frustrations out on somebody.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley rounded on Harry, telling him off for disturbing Dudley's lesson.

"Excuse me," the tutor interrupted. "Perhaps, we may try something. Often students do better if they work with a peer. It encourages them." The man turned to Harry. "Why don't you make up sentence for each work Dudley reads?" He looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry looked at his aunt and uncle. They glared at him but did not say anything. Harry cleared his throat and said the first thing that popped into his head. "The fat brat sat on a rat."

Dudley went ballistic.

"Why you little…" he roared and called Harry a very nasty word.

He lunged for Harry, knocking over the coffee table. Mrs. Dursley screamed at the sound of breaking china and hot tea splashed across the egg-shell colored carpet. The upturned coffee table caught Harry's shins and he went over backwards.

The tutor tried to intercept Dudley, but was knocked aside by one of Dudley's flailing fists. Dudley launched himself over the fallen table and landed on top of Harry. Harry's breath went out of him in a rush leaving him momentarily stunned. Then Dudley's fat hands closed around his neck. Mr. Dursley and the tutor rushed in to separate them.

Dudley screamed wordlessly into Harry's face as he shook him like a rag doll, banging his head repeatedly on the floor. If he couldn't pry Dudley's fingers off it was an even bet whether he would pass out form concussion or lack of oxygen to his brain first.

In retrospect, Harry thought things might have worked out if he hadn't panicked. A dozen brown rats suddenly appeared. They scampered over the combatants, nipping and squealing. Abruptly, Dudley removed his hands from Harry's neck and, squealing louder than the rats, he jumped onto the nearest piece of furniture which happened to be an end table. Mrs. Dursley shrieked from her place on top of an over-stuffed chair.

Mr. Dursely looked ready to take up where Dudley had left off strangling Harry. The tutor stood petrified as the rats boiled out of the room, down the hall and out through the mail slot. Silence fell around Harry as he sprawled amid the wreckage, gasping for air.

* * *

AN: Since I am new to this fanfic I'm not sure if I selected the correct category. Is "Books" correct?


	2. Crime and Punishment

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 2 Crime and Punishment

Mr. Dursley bellowed, "Get—Out!" and Harry lost no time in obeying. Although Dudley's hands were no longer wrapped around his neck, Harry's throat was still choked with panic. Use of magic by under aged wizards, especially in front of Muggles was grounds for punishment, maybe even expulsion. Next to that, whatever the Dursleys did would pale by comparison.

He forced himself to slow his rapid pacing and to take even breaths. This was not the first time he had lost control. Two years ago he had blown up his aunt. The ministry of Magic has smoothed it over in their eagerness to protect him from Sirius Black. In fact there had been other bizarre things that had happened before he had known he was a wizard. He wished he could explain things to Dumbledore. The headmaster would understand, he hoped.

Of course! Harry rushed to his desk and after rummaging in the drawers for a moment, pulled out a piece of parchment, quill and ink. He didn't know how much time he had so he hastily scribbled a note.

As he signed his name he could hear the tutor downstairs shouting, "No amount of money would induce me to return to this rat-infested house to teach that abysmally stupid, homicidal, lump of lard."

Harry hurriedly crossed the room and opened Hedwig's cage. "I need you to take this to Dumbledore."

Hedwig stuck out her leg so Harry could attach the note. He then threw open the window and his snowy owl soared through it.

"Hurry," Harry whispered.

Harry wished he could send a letter to Hermione and Ron as well. From downstairs he heard a new shout of alarm.

"Owls! First rats, now owls! This place is a zoo!" Then the front door slammed so hard the whole house shook.

Harry heard his Uncle Vernon's footsteps on the stairs only moments before he burst into the room. Uncle Vernon's face was beet red. His breath hissed between clenched teeth as he advanced into the room. Harry took an involuntary step backwards.

I've faced a dragon he reminded himself, I can face this too.

Uncle Vernon had a letter clutched in his fist, which he shook under Harry's nose, too furious to speak. Then the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a parody of a smile.

"Those ruddy owls dropped a letter on my head," Uncle Vernon said, "Do you want to know what it says? It says you are not allowed to do magic here. It says that you are under probation and any further use of magic in this house will get you expelled!"

This was not the first time the Dursley's had received such a letter. Harry wondered if he was going to be locked up in his room again. He was glad he had sent Hedwig out. At least she wouldn't be imprisoned too.

"You are probably thinking that I'm going to lock you up again so you can be rescued. No I've got a better idea."

He shook the letter under Harry's nose again. Uncle Vernon unfolded the rumpled letter and gave it to Harry. "There'll be no escaping this time," Uncle Vernon grinned evilly while Harry read the letter.

Mr. H. Potter

4 Private Drive

Surry, England

_Ministry of Magic_

IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC DIVISION

14 B Diagon Alley

Dear Mr. Potter,

It has come to our attention that a conjuring spell was used at your residence twenty two minutes after ten, in the possible presence of Muggles. The international Confederation of Warlocks' Stature of Secrecy, Section 13 clearly forbids the use of magic in front ot the non-magicals (Muggles).

As this is not a first-time offense, ou will be placed under a probationary period until August 31st, while we consider the appropriate consequences of your actions. During this time, a Confinement Spell will be evoked around your place of residence, preventing you from going beyond 100 strides of the above residence.

Further use of magic will mean your expulsion (…section II paragraph C) and your wand will be broken. (Just because you are home for the summer holidays doesn't mean you can behave like a hoodlum).

It is imperative that you learn to use your abilities responsibly. You are therefore reminded to continue your studies during this probationary time. You may not, of course, actually perform any spell work. Enjoy your holidays.

Yours Sincerely

Malfada Hopkirk

IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE

_ Ministry of magic _

"That letter talks about responsibility and consequences. You are responsible and I've got your consequences right here!"

Uncle Vernon gave a brief, maniacal laugh, his eye s glinting with such animosity that Harry thought his Uncle was about to hit him. Harry braced himself for the blow that never fell. Instead his uncle jabbed him lightly in the center of his chest each time he said 'you'.

"_You_ are responsible for Dudley losing his tutor. _You_ are responsible for making a shambles of the living room. _ You_ are responsible for sabotaging my peaceful home. _You_ are responsible for upsetting your Aunt Petunia so badly she must lie down. So _you_ are going to be responsible for taking care of the cooking, cleaning, and laundry while your aunt is recovering."

With each jab, Harry backed slowly away, but he was so relieved that he hadn't been summarily expelled that he hardly heard his uncle's tirade. He was always being blamed for something and being given chores to do that he was almost thinking that he had gotten off easy when he found himself backed into the far wall. He uncle towered over him.

"…and _you_, will be responsible for tutoring Dudley."

"But…but…" Harry choked, "I c…can't!"

"Oh yes, you will!" his uncle thundered. "It's your fault Dudley doesn't have a tutor so you will teach him." His uncle took deep breaths and went on in a calmer voice, "As your guardian, I need to see that you learn responsibility."

Desperately, Harry pulled his trump card. "It's been a while since I've studied Muggle subjects. What if I accidently teach him something I've been learning, by mistake?" Harry tried to sound casual but his voice broke with a squeak.

His uncle face went from red to white. "Don't try to threaten me, boy. If doing magic in front of normal people is illegal, I'm sure teaching them magic must be worse. They'll probably throw you into prison. Why don't you send a letter to your godfather? I'm sure he'd know."

Harry gulped. "I can't teach Dudley if he refuses to learn. I need to be able to reward him for doing well."

Vernon pursed his lips.

"Unless you would let me punish him with detentions?" Harry asked, knowing that it was too good to be true. Harry wished he could make Dudley go on some of the detentions he had received at Hogwarts.

"What do you have in mind?"

Harry thought furiously for an incentive that might be enough to make Dudley work for. Dudley had always gotten whatever he wanted and then promptly broke it so he couldn't think of a toy or game that Dudley would want enough. The only thing Dudley seemed to want right now, even more than food was to beat Harry to a pulp. An image of Dudley punching him every time he answered a question correctly flashed through Harry's mind.

"Dudley's diet," said Harry. "If Dudley does what he is supposed to, than you can give him a sweet."

From Mr. Dursley's expression, it was clear the wanted to refuse.

"I suppose I can ask my friends to send me some sweets," Harry prompted. Last year Dudley had eaten one of Fred and George's trick candies.

"I'll provide the candies," Uncle Vernon agreed. "In fact, food can be an incentive for you, too. If Dudley doesn't learn, you don't eat."

"And books and stuff."

His uncle gave a curt nod. Harry had another thought.

"And Dudley can't just walk out. He must stay for the whole session," Harry pressed.

His uncle glared at him but Harry made himself look back directly. "You will start tomorrow morning. Nine to noon. Right now I want you to get going on the living room."

So began one of the worst summers of Harry's life. It rapidly got to the point where Harry almost found he enjoyed doing chores. At least compared to the mornings he spent with Dudley.

At the first session, Dudley yelled and screamed. Then he threw his books at Harry but not even the promise of candies was enough of an incentive. Dudley threw his math book through the TV set, but Mr. Dursley refused to let Dudley leave until the three hours were up.

Dudley smirked at him. "I think I'll go and watch TV now in my room."

Harry's stomach rumbled as he set about picking up the mess Dudley had made. Harry clenched his teeth at the injustice of it all. Here he was doing chores all afternoon with an empty stomach while Dudley went off to play on his computer. He wished he could take away all of Dudley's games and toys and make him do boring work.

Suddenly, Harry froze in the middle of vacuuming. That had given him an idea. That evening, after Harry had cleared away dinner and washed the dishes, he approached his uncle who was drinking an after dinner tea in the living room. Since Mr. Dursley could not watch television, he opened the newspaper. Harry cleared his throat and Uncle Vernon looked up and grunted irritably.

"How are your lesson going?" he smirked, "How's Dudley progressing?"

"I think it's going to take some time," said Harry.

"If it takes too much time, you'll starve."

"I need something else."

"What? Has your student read all the text books already?"

"No, we need a place to work. Somewhere quiet so Dudley can concentrate." Harry nodded ast the broken television set. "Somewhere where there is nothing to break."

"There's nowhere in the house like that."

"We could work in my room," Harry suggested. "I could fix it up."

Harry waited while Mr. Dursley turned the matter over. Mr. Dursley turned the matter over. Mr. Dursley was inclined to turn down Harry's request just as a matter of principle not to give Harry something he asked for. Then he thought about the smashed television set and decided that if things were going to be broken, he much preferred them to be Harry's things.

That night Harry stayed up very late packing all his things back into his trunk. He heaved the trunk down the stairs and into the cupboard he used to sleep in. After that he gathered up all the old broken things that used to belong to Dudley and put them out in the rubbish bin. He then set about removing and clearing everything from the room until only his desk and bed remained. He even removed all his clothes. He was glad that Hedwig was gone because he didn't dare leave her cage. When at last the room was stripped bare, the clock downstairs was chiming midnight.

Harry went upstairs. He listened to the rasping snores the Dursleys were making to be sure they were asleep. By the light of a pocket torch, he pried up the loose bard from under his bed. He took out a box of treats he had brought on the Hogwarts Express and opened up a package of Berti Botts' Every Flavored Beans.

He nibbled as he started going through Dudley's text books, trying to figure out what Dudley was supposed to have learned. As he thumbed through the pages, he became a bit concerned. It had been years since he had worked at ordinary school work and although he had always made good marks, he was rather out of practice. Maybe he should take Muggle studies.

Harry was woken up the next day by Aunt Petunia banging on the door, shouting for him to get up and get breakfast started. Harry sat up and realized that he had fallen asleep reading Dudley's textbook. He felt as stiff and rumpled as the clothes he had slept in. The batteries of the hand torch were dead. He hastily tucked in his shirt and went down to the kitchen.

"Harry, make the toast, and be sure not to burn it," Aunt Petunia snapped, "And straighten up, you look a mess."

"Harry, you look disgraceful," his uncle said by way of greeting.

"I'm not going to do any work with him," wailed Dudley, "You can't make me."

"Yes, you can, sweetum," cood Mrs. Dursley, "If you want to go back to Smeltings."

"If you're a good boy, you can have a sweet," Mr. Dursley said, glancing at Harry. "Harry, comb your hair."

Dudley stopped his fake crying and looked at Harry. "What happened to you? You look like you slept in your clothes." Dudley started shoveling cereal into his mouth.

"Well?" asked Mr. Dursley sharply, "Answer the question."

"Yes, I did," admitted Harry, "I was up late preparing for Dudley's lesson." Dudley burst into loud guffaws, spraying the table with pieces of cereal.

Harry hurried through washing up from breakfast so he would have time to splash some cold water on his face before nine o'clock. At nine his uncle brought Dudley up to Harry's room. Dudley was too preoccupied with feeling sorry for himself to notice what had happened to Harry's room before his uncle closed and bolted the door.

Dudley reacted by going berserk. Harry felt as if he had been locked in with a mountain troll. His cousin screamed and beat his fists against the door. When his father refused to open the door, Dudley turned on Harry. Harry was small and very fast and although there were a few close calls, he had little difficulty dancing out of Dudley's way as he lumbered around the room. Dudley soon became frustrated and looked for something to throw, but the pillows flopped harmlessly to the floor.

Throwing a temper-fit is exhausting and it wasn't long before Dudley was panting, bent over in the middle of the room.

"Let me know when you are done," said Harry as casually as he could. Dudley flung himself at Harry who dodged nimbly out of the way. In about five minutes, Dudley was trying to catch his breath again.

After about two hours Dudley was hoarse from shouting, red faced and sweating. "You can't make me work," he declared stubbornly.

"No, but you can't do anything else either," Harry answered.

"I guess you don't want to eat lunch, again," retorted Dudley.

"And you don't want a chocolate bar," Harry answered and went on talking about scrumptious candy bars until both Dudley and his stomachs rumbled.

When the session was over, both Dudley and Harry felt exhausted. Harry was made to serve lunch while not being allowed to eat anything. He spent the afternoon doing laundry, but at least he would not have to clean up the living room. Dudley was so tired from his tirade, that he fell asleep in the middle of blowing up aliens on his computer.

When dinner was finally washed up, Harry returned to his room. He flopped on his bed. His room was dark because he didn't dare leave a lamp for Dudley to throw. He knew he should take out Dudley's school books and look them over them, or even his own school work, but he just wanted to relax and not think about things for a moment. Only one week and already quiet evenings with Ron and Hermione seemed ages ago.

Suddenly, there was a tapping on the window. Hedwig was back. Harry ran to the window and flung it open. Hedwig flew around the room looking for her perch. When she didn't find it she settled for landing on Harry's bed. Here was a letter in her beak. Harry looked at it apprehensively. Well at least it wasn't red.

Dear Harry,

I was notified by the board that you have used magic in front of Muggles. Thank you for sending Hedwig to explain the circumstances. In light of your present situation, I am going to recommend that the charges should be dropped. Even experienced wizards might lose control when being strangled.

I am writing to you however, to give you the most serious admonition against using magic in front of Muggles. Doing magic is more than speaking funny words while waving your hands about or following a peculiar recipe. You probably realize by now that part of the magic comes from the witch or wizard who performs it. There is an effort involving concentration and self-control.

It is this self control that makes the difference between a great wizards and an ineffectual magician. Harry I believe you have it in you to be a great wizard, but you must learn to apply yourself responsibly.

We all have situations that test our self control from time to time. Part of growing up is learning to deal with these things without losing our heads. (Look up Anne Bolin in Wizarding World History by Bethilda Bagshot if you don't believe me.) Perhaps it seems a bit unfair that everyone has such high expectations for you, but that is part of growing up. Now that you are older, you will be asked to start taking on the responsibilities of an adult. That is a lot to ask of anyone but somehow we all get through it. I have confidence you will tool

Enjoy the rest of your summer.

Albus Dumbledore

Harry reread the letter while he absent-mindedly petted Hedwig. He went around his room straightening up the things that Dudley had tossed around that morning. The letter certainly left him with mixed feelings. His heart soared with relief and gratitude that the charges would probably be dropped. On the other hand he felt that he had let Dumbledore down. He resolved to tr to keep better control on his temper.

Hedwig snapped reproachfully at Harry's fingers, bringing Harry's attention back to her. He was very glad to have her company. With her, he knew he had a connection t everyone and everything he cared about. She pecked at him again, hooting. Harry realized that Hedwig's cage was downstairs. He hurried to get it and realized he didn't dare have Hedwig here when Dudley came for his lesson the next day. He would have to send her back out. He didn't have the heart to do it right after a long journey. He would have to send her away early the next morning.

He wrote a letter to the Weasleys, telling them what happened. He asked if they could keep Hedwig a few days to let her rest. Hopefully by then it would be safe for her to return. True each day Dudley's temper tantrums took less time but he wasn't exactly ready to cooperate. Dudley did nothing and Harry's supply of chocolate frogs and Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans was running low.

"I'm so bored!" Dudley shouted.

"So am I," said Harry.

It was amazing how tiresome it was, watching someone whine for hours on end. Harry thought about Dumbledore's letter. "Calm…cool, and collected," he reminded himself. Harry had never been more bored, not even in Professor Bin's class. He wished he was listening o the old ghost droning on about goblin rebellions right now. Maybe he would even tell him about Dumbledore's reference to Anne Bolin.

That gave him a sudden idea. He picked up Dudley's text books and sorted through them.

"I'm not going to read for you," Dudley sulked from his place on the floor.

"That's fine, I wasn't going to ask you to," said Harry in an unperturbed voice. Harry had found that Muggles and Wizading points of view of historical events were often quite different but maybe there were some clues if he read between the lines.

He opened Dudley's history text and looked up Henry the Eighth. He started reading aloud about sixteenth century politics. He wondered if all history teachers and text books were so dull. Was there some law somewhere that made it illegal to write about history in such a way as to be interesting? All the wars and battles had to be pretty exciting or at least terrifying if you were actually in them.

Harry started reading again. This time instead of reciting the words on the page he started describing it as if it were a TV show. Harry was surprised to learn that there were some people who accused Henry the Eight's second wife of being a witch and putting a spell on the king to make him fall in love with her. Harry wondered if maybe she really was a witch and had used a love potion. He would have to ask Hermione. Harry was just finished telling about Ann Bolin's beheading adding in lots of gory details, when there was a knock at the door.

Mrs. Dursley opened the door. Time was up. Dudley who usually rushed from the room didn't move.

"What happened to the rest of them?" he asked.

"The rest of what, dear?" asked Mrs. Dursley.

"The wives."

"What wives, sweetums?" asked Aunt Petunia puzzled.

"You said he had six wives," Dudley insisted.

"We were reading about Henry the Eighth," clarified Harry. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

It was the first time Harry had eaten lunch in a week. Dudley gobbled his candy bar so fast, he almost choked. That evening, Harry stayed up late first reading Dudley's history texts, then his own. It was interesting how the two texts could come to completely different conclusions about the same historical events.

The next day Dudley didn't throw a tantrum when the door was locked. He grinned maliciously at Harry and asked if any more of Henry the Eight's wives were witches.

"Too bad they don't chop their heads off anymore."

After that things got better. Well most of the time. On some days, Harry was ready to pull his hair out in frustration. Dudley spent more time whining and complaining and making excuses for not doing any work than actually doing any. But by the end of the week they were making progress. Dudley had even been coaxed into reading a bit and doing a few math problems.

"Why do I have to do this part?" Dudley whined as Harry tried to explain how the 'carry and borrow' worked in addition and subtraction problems. "I always got little Jimmy Stuart to do them at school."

That explained a lot. Harry was wondering how Dudley could have made it a far as he had in school.

"Well he's not here now," Harry answered and helped Dudley work through the problem.

Every evening Harry would go through Dudley's books to prepare for the next lesson. Although he had always gotten good marks in school, even before he went to Hogwarts, there was plenty that he had never learned that well. Even if Dudley had not bothered to learn it either, for the first time Harry gave thought to what he wasn't learning at Hogwarts. No wonder so many witches and wizards seemed so clueless about how Muggles did things. A lot of them must lack what is considered a basic education.

Harry also realized the secret truth about teaching; if you really want to learn something; teach it.

In spite of this revelation, there was only so much Muggle school work Harry could stand. So after he prepared for Dudley's lesson, he would sneak downstairs and get his own spell books out to read. After Smeltings' text books he looked forward to his own homework.

Well, sort of. The truth was he felt a bit homesick and by doing his homework he somehow felt closer to his friends at Hogwarts. He took out his quill and began an essay on the long term effects of memory charms. As he wrote, he could imagine Hermione enthusiastically filling rolls of parchment with her small, neat handwriting and Ron muttering under his breath and writing in his uneven scrawl.


	3. Chapter 3 Mr Krumpet

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

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Chapter 3

Mr. Krumpet

"Hey Harry, having fun?" a voice yelled into his ear. Harry startled and then tried to go back to his weeds as if he hadn't heard, but Dudley laughed. "My mother wants to know if you have finished the weeding yet?" Dudley paused and took a long sip of his glass of ice tea. "You've been working so slow and the roses need pruning. If you don't hurry up, you will miss diner."

He reminded himself that it wouldn't help to respond to the sneer in Dudley's voice. If he ignored Dudley his fat cousin would soon get tired of standing in the heat, even with an iced drink, and go away.

"I wonder how many calories are in that drink?" said Harry. Dudley was supposed to be on a diet. "Maybe you should drink just plain water," he said.

Dudley made a face. "It is important to drink fluids on a hot day. They were talking about it on television. Besides, I think I'll just have less for dinner." Dudley might hate dieting, but he enjoyed bating Harry more.

Harry had to resist the urge to punch Dudley on the nose. When Dudley was on a diet, Aunt Petunia reasoned that Harry had to be one, too. And if Dudley ate smaller rations that meant Harry would as well. Of course Dudley wouldn't really skimp on dinner. Aunt Petunia would feel so proud of Dudley's fortitude that she would reward him with an ice cream sundae.

The only reason Harry hadn't starved last year was because his friends had sent him cakes. Now that his friends had gone abroad, he was afraid he'd be awfully thin by the time school started again.

But Dudley wasn't done yet. "You know, I was thinking," Dudley continued casually, "that our yard is looking rather well."

Harry stopped working to stare at him. Dudley never had anything nice to say about anyone or anything unless there was some advantage in it for him.

"In fact, I might almost say it looks too good," he went on happily. "One could almost believe that something _special _went into making the yard look the way it does."

Harry looked at Dudley in alarm. "You know very well that I haven't used magic."

"Maybe," said Dudley, "but that's not what your Aunt Petunia will think now that people are starting to notice."

Harry knew he shouldn't ask Dudley, but he was worried what his Aunt and Uncle would do to him if they thought he had been using magic.

"What do you mean?"

"That old man, who moved into Mrs. Figg's old house, has been over asking Mum about it," Dudley said with delight. "If you've been breaking the rules, they might not let you back to that horrible school of yours. Well, the weather's simply beastly. I think I'll go inside." Dudley slurped loudly on his drink and waddled away.

.

.

Harry had just moved onto another patch of weeds when he heard some more voices approaching. These voices were no more welcome than Dudley's. They belonged to his Aunt and Uncle. The family resemblance between Dudley and his father was immediately apparent in the waddling gait. Where Dudley had blond hair, his Uncle tried to disguise the fact that he was going bald by combing a few strands over his potato shaped head and growing a large mustache. His Aunt on the other hand was tall and thin with a long neck and nose, which she used to stick into other people's business.

With them there was a third person. He was old with wisps of gray hair. He was dressed neatly, but it was his bent-over posture that caught the attention.

"This is Mr. Krumpet," said Mr. Dursley gruffly as Harry stood up. "He wants someone to help him with his yard work."

Harry wiped his grubby hands off on the back of his pants and shook hands.

"Yes," said the man in a dry voice, "I'm just not up to doing yard work. I'm looking for a boy to help out, if you are a good worker. It is so good for boys to work. Now-a-days, young men don't seem to believe that hard work is necessary to succeed. They think they should just get things handed to them without any effort of their own. They need to be taught the value of hard work."

"Quite right," agreed Uncle Vernon, glaring at Harry as if he had been the one loafing around all day sipping iced tea.

"Then it is agreed," Mr. Krumpet said briskly, "He can begin tomorrow afternoon."

The man pulled out his wallet and peeled off what looked like at least fifty pounds. He handed it to Mr. Dursley. "You can pay him from that if his work is as promised." Then he turned and left not even asking Harry if he wanted to take the job.

Mrs. Dursley saw the old man down to the edge of the driveway but he Uncle turned to him and said through gritted teeth, "You had better do a good day's work. Work, honest work. I'd better not hear of any funny business or I'll write to your school."

"Uncle Vernon," Harry protested, "you know I haven't done any m…," Harry caught himself. Even the mention of the word magic made him furious. "…any…anything."

"That's not what Mr. Krumpet said. He noticed that our yard looked different."

"That's because you've had me out her working every day," said Harry. "Of course your lawn is going to look better. You know I haven't done anything. You can't prove it. You would have gotten a letter."

It was true. He had received warnings for using magic before when it hadn't even been him.

Uncle Vernon just glared at him and pocketed the money. Harry doubted that he'd ever see any of it.

"It's about time you started putting in your share around here. All these years your Aunt and I have taken you in, you have been nothing but a burden to us. The least you can do is show a little gratitude."

.

.

Mr. Krumpet was a dour old man and a demanding employer but it wasn't all that bad. For one thing it kept him out of the Dursely's reach for hours at a time. For another, although at first meeting he seemed almost disagreeable as the Dursleys, Harry soon found out that was just a façade he put on for company.

Almost the first thing he did when Harry arrived at his door was to give him some ointment for his sunburned face and blistered hands. The cool cream brought immediate relief. Later that afternoon, when Harry cleared away a pile of debris, Mr. Krumpet brought him a tall glass of lemonade. Harry gulped it gratefully. The intense sun was making him slightly dizzy.

Mr. Krumpet had watched him critically for a time and then said, "When you are done raking these leaves, wash up and come inside."

When Harry had removed his dirty shoes, and scrubbed his hands and face, he knocked at the door and was surprised when Mr. Krumpet ushered him inside and told him to sit at the kitchen table. A platter of sandwiches sat on the table next to a pitcher of juice. Harry's stomach rumbled loudly.

Mr. Krumpet laughed dryly, "I've never known a boy your age that wasn't hungry. Sit down and join me."

Harry thanked Mr. Krumpet and sank his teeth into the sandwiches. Hunger made them taste twice as good.

.

.

Harry never did see any of the money he was supposed to be paid, but Mr. Krumpet was generous in other ways. He provided Harry with food and company and Harry wasn't sure which one he appreciated more.

Of course he couldn't talk about Hogwarts or anything unusual, so mostly he just listened. Mr. Krumpet had held a lot of different jobs and had traveled to interesting places before his health started to fail. Harry was surprised to find himself caught up in his adventures. After two weeks of starving at the Dursleys it was wonderful to have someone to speak to.

Harry thought Mr. Krumpet was sort of like his lawn. When he first came, it was a nasty tangle of weeds and bushes. But with a little attention, it was becoming an inviting place. Although he was careful never to talk about it, Harry suspected that Mr. Krumpet had an idea of what things were like for him at the Dursleys. He was always gruff and unpleasant in front of Mr. Dursley but Harry found he looked forwards to afternoons with Mr. Krumpet.

There was another reason Harry didn't complain about the work. Doing hard work as well as chores and tutoring Dudley left him exhausted at the end of the day. A week after he had returned, he started having nightmares. Harry found that when he was very tired, he slept soundly and had fewer nightmares.

Again and again, he dreamed he found himself in a graveyard, sprawled on a headstone. In front of him, a cauldron was bubbling furiously. Then out of the cauldron would rise a terrifying shape. Sometimes it would be a gigantic snake, sometimes a hideous monster, and sometimes a figure robed in black. The creature would turn its gaze toward him and he would be looking into Voldemort's serpentine eyes.

"Kill him!" it hissed. But instead of pointing toward Harry, the dreaded creature would indicate a headstone next to him. In his dreams, Harry would turn his head to find Ron or Hermione, or his parents. Harry would fight furiously to move but his limbs would be frozen. Each time someone he loved would plead for mercy, their face livid with terror, while Harry struggled desperately. Then there would be a flash of green light and Harry would find himself sitting in bed gasping and sweating.

Harry tried to tell himself that it was only a nightmare but he couldn't shake the dread the dreams left. Harry debated whether he should write to his godfather about his dreams. He didn't much like the idea of telling anyone about something so personal and he didn't want to make a big deal of it if it was nothing. On the other hand he was having a lot of trouble sleeping and he really wanted someone to reassure him that it was just a dream. Some of his dreams about Voldemort had been more than just dreams.

Finally when Hedwig returned with a note from Ron saying that he had gotten back from visiting his brother, Harry got out a piece of parchment and wrote Sirius a letter. Although Sirius Black was his godfather, Harry had only seen him briefly over the last three years because Sirius Black was hiding from the law. He had been falsely accused of killing thirteen people and being an acolyte of Voldemort. He had escaped from Azkaban but since there was no way to prove his innocence he remained a fugitive.

Then he went to the cage by the window of his room. His snowy owl flew to his shoulder and nuzzled her head against his cheek affectionately. Harry tied his letter around Hedwig's leg and opened the window. Harry watched as she flew off, thinking about Black and wondering what he was doing.

.

.

In early July, he was awakened by Hedwig tapping on the window. He hurried to open it before Hedwig's hooting woke Mr. Dursley. Hedwig flew in and dropped a package in his lap. Harry hastily opened the letter that was attached. It was from Sirius. He was surprised to see it contained birthday greetings. His birthday wasn't for a few more weeks.

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday! I know it is a bit early, but I may not be able to contact you for a while. I hope those Muggles are not giving you a hard time._

_I talked to Dumbledore about your nightmares and we think it is nothing to worry about. Sometimes nightmares are the way the mind deals with stressful things and goodness knows, you've had enough ot be frightened about. Tell Dumbledore if you think it might be something more than that._

_I got something for your birthday that might help you. I got it from a Ojibwe Shaman. A dream catcher is a type of Native American charm for trapping bad dreams. Shaman Running Deer advised that sometimes nightmares like other dreams help sort out our thoughts so it shouldn't be used all the time._

_I wish I could be there, but there is important work I need to do. I can't say what or where, just in case your owl is intercepted. She seems very intelligent and strong but we shouldn't take any chances. I will be returning to the States soon, so I might be out of touch for a while. I can't take Buckbeak with me, so I left here with Ron's brother Charlie._

_Until then, my thoughts are with you._

_Missing you,_

_Sirius Black_

Harry tore open the package and took out a sort of hoop that had been covered with an intricate lace-work. It looked as delicate as a spider's web. The iridescent strands threw off flashes of color as he tilted it from side to side. Around the rim an assortment of feathers and beads had been attached. Harry stared at it. It was as if he could almost see a pattern in the strands and beads but not quite, like when you are trying to remember something.

He shook his head to break his gaze and noticed a card. It has hand written in blocky letters.

**This is a dream catcher for preventing nightmares. To use, turn it around in your hands four times while facing North, South East, and West. Then hang above your bed. Dreams can give us insight to things we may not be consciously aware. WARNING: The Shaman General has determined that over use of a dream catcher may be hazardous to your health. One should not use a dream catcher every night. Over use of a dream catcher may keep your mind from finding balance. **

Harry wondered if using it would constitute underage use of magic but if Sirius had talked to Dumbledore about it, then it must be all right. He wasn't sure he understood the risk involved with the dream catcher but the lack of sleep was taking its toll. He also felt uncomfortable with the idea of his private dreams being discussed but was intensely relieved that they thought they were normal nightmares.

By the time Harry finished examining the Dream Catcher, it was near morning, so instead of going back to sleep, Harry crept outside and sat on the back step. It was so quiet and peaceful and the pre-dawn air was refreshingly cool. The moon was almost full and the whole yard was awash in silvery light. He watched Hedwig leave silently with a letter for Hermione. It almost gave even the mundane yard of the Dursleys an atmosphere of magical possibilities.

.

.

"Why do I have to read this?" Dudley whined, "I don't want to."

"Let's just finish this page and then we'll play Black Jack."

Strictly speaking, Harry didn't think Uncle Vernon would approve of gamboling but Harry knew Dudley wouldn't tell. They played with peanuts. The Dursleys only seemed to approve of doing pages of sums, but the game convinced Dudley to practice his addition facts.

"And this time, don't use your fingers for counting. When you do, I can tell what cards you have."

Dudley went back to making up excuses about why they should skip the reading and go straight to the game. But as Harry refused to play, Dudley began to read, slowly sounding out each word at a time. Harry felt more sympathy for his teachers at Hogwarts. Surely he and Ron had never come up with excuses that lame.

Harry yawned. He shouldn't have stayed up so late last night.

.

.

It was night. Harry was standing outside a formidable looking mansion. The clouds scuttled across the sky, harried by a chilling breeze that made Harry's robes whip around him. The ornately carved wrought iron gate parted in front of him and Harry walked through and up the flagstone path to the door. Harry stood in front of the door watching the shadows of shifting moonlight fall across the door.

Harry knew he did not want to enter, but the door slammed open with a bang and an icy blast of wind propelled him inside the unlit hallway. It was almost completely black except for the intermittent moonlight which threw shadows down the hall. Harry did not want to see what those shadows revealed.

At the end of the hallway Harry's body turned right and against his volition he started descending the stone steps he found there. He tried to stop his legs from carrying him down the twisting slime-covered stairwell but it was as if he was under the imperious curse. Light was flickering from around the next corner. Harry's heart thumped in his chest but his legs brought him inexorably forward.

The light was from a fire, on which sat a large black cauldron. The light was blocked by three robed shapes. Two had their backs to him but Harry recognized the pinched, sallow features of the balding man cringing next to the fire.

"Yes, Master, I have brought the ingredients you asked for. It was very difficult to do it without being seen."

The man offered a grubby package in trembling hands. One hand was normal, if filthy, but the other was dead white and glowed with an ethereal light. Peter Petigrew, also known as Wormtail.

The figure on his right gestured impatiently and Wormtail handed the parcel over. The figure took it and moved out of Harry's range of vision.

"It's all there, Master," the whining voice of Peter Petigrew assured the other figures.

A high cold voice said, "Lucky for you."

A sigh like escaping steam blew out of the small man. "I am your faithful servant, forever, Master."

Voldemort said, for Harry knew the figure silhouetted against the fire, must be him, "Will the potion do as you promised?"

"Yes, with this he will become completely powerless." The voice was odd as if it the owner was under water.

"To die as a Muggle!" the high cold laugh echoed around the chamber.

"But it is subtle. The effects are almost undetectable at first," the muffled voice cautioned, "It will take time."

"I have been patient for fourteen years. I can bear to wait a little longer."

"The potion must be allowed to cool before the final ingredients are added, Master," the figure bowed low. "And I must return to continue my preparations."

"Leave, then," commanded Voldemort. "But do not fail me. You know the consequences if you fail me. And so does Nagini."

Harry became aware for the first time of a large snake that had been lying coiled in the shadows. It raised its head and hissed. Its eyes glittered, mirroring the flames. The cloaked figure hurried from the room, almost brushing Harry as it passed.

"To die as a Muggle!" Voldemort laughed again, sending chills down Harry's spine. "To die as a Muggle!"

Voldemort reached into his robe and removed a wand. He waved it over the cauldron and spoke words Harry did not recognize.

There was a flash of light that blinded Harry and pain seared his scar but he could still hear Voldemort laughing. "To die!" The pain surged in his forehead, knocking him to the floor.

.

.

He was lying on the floor, seating and shaking. The sun glaring into his eyes made him squint. His forehead throbbed, where Dudley had hit him with a book. Dudley was standing over him laughing.

"You fell asleep, moron!" he accused still laughing.

Harry scrambled to his feet in case Dudley decided to kick him but Dudley was having too good a time at catching Harry out.

"I finished the whole page," said Dudley, "Now we are going to play cards."

Harry rather doubted that but since he had nodded off, he couldn't deny it. He closed the books to make room on his desk and began shuffling the deck of cards.

Harry played poorly. He was too distracted by the dream. The pain rapidly faded from his forehead. Was it just a normal nightmare or was it something more? He glanced at the head of his bed. The dream catcher, like the rest of his stuff, was hidden away. Tonight he would use the dream catcher. If it was just a nightmare, that would take care of it. On the other hand, it wouldn't hurt to send a note to Dumbledore only he couldn't do that either until Hedwig returned.

Harry checked Dudley's watch. It was time to put the cards away. For once Dudley cooperated. He didn't want to get caught playing cars any more than Harry wanted to explain that Dudley was actually learning math that way. When his aunt unlocked the door, Dudley was bent studiously over his books again.

"I worked very hard today," said Dudley smiling. Harry nodded.

Aunt Petunia beamed and hugged her son. "Oh Dudley, I'm so proud of my brilliant boy!"

Dudley smirked at Harry from beneath his mother's arm.

"Harry wasn't working. He fell asleep."

The look Aunt Petunia gave him was not benevolent. She sent Harry outside to do yard work.

.

.

Harry turned over a spade of dirt and crumbled the rich dark dirt between his fingers. The smell of rich earth and tomato plants rose about him. He could hear Mr. Krumpet in the distance clearing up from the satisfying lunch he and Harry had just shared in the shade of the patio. At some level Harry felt that helping living things grow with the work of his hands was good for him. The patient work seemed to ease his anguish and guilt over Cedric Diggory's death.

He didn't feel any better about the way Voldemort had killed him simply because Cedric was unlucky enough to have been transported along with Harry. For a long time Harry had blamed himself of Cedric's death. He kept thinking about what he could have done instead that might have made a difference. If only he and been more suspicious of a trap. If only he and Cedric hadn't helped each other. If only he had taken the trophy by himself as Cedric had told him to. But here was no second-guessing what was past.

Harry spread manure onto the bed for the marrows and turned it over with a spade then raked it smooth. It was a bit late for planting the squash, but if they got a good start, maybe Mr. Krumpet could get a harvest before frost. Harry would not be around to see it of course; he would be back a Hogwarts long before then.

For the first time Harry felt anxious about returning. What if Voldemort was waiting for him again with a new plot? What if more people were killed?

Harry clenched his fists. No, that was just what Voldemort wanted; for everyone to be so frightened that they just gave up without a fight. That was one reason why Voldemort had gotten so powerful before. Everyone was too terrified to stand up to him. Well Harry had done so before and he sure wasn't going to give up now. His parents and Cedric and so many others had given up their live to fight the dark wizard. He as determined to make sure their sacrifices meant something. Voldemort was the one who was to blame for the people he killed.

Abruptly Harry realized that he was standing in the vegetable garden brandishing a rake and snarling. The weeds around his feet had mysteriously withered. Had he done that? He looked around sheepishly to find Mr. Krumpet approaching with a glass of lemonade.

"That's it," Mr. Krumpet said fiercely, "Don't let those weeds get a foothold. Conquer and triumph!"

Harry laughed and took the glass. "Sorry, I guess I just got carried away."

Harry drank to cover his embarrassment. Mr. Krumpet must have forgotten to put in enough sugar. He hoped that Mr. Krumpet wouldn't notice the sudden demise of the weeds.

"Go on, drink it," urged Mr. Krumpet. "You need to get enough fluids when it is hot."

Harry did not want to seem ungrateful for Mr. Krumpet's kindness so he tilted the glass back until it was empty. When Mr. Krumpet was sure Harry had finished it all he took back the glass.

"I've got some new marigold seedlings by the driveway Plant them along the edge for a border."

Harry sighed in relief. Apparently his employer hadn't noticed anything amiss.

.

.

That night Harry hung the dream catcher over his bed. After that, Harry found he started sleeping better at night and stopped having nightmares. He no longer fell into bed in total exhaustion at the end of the day and so began to put some work toward his own homework.

Hermoine wasn't the only one thinking about O.W.L's exams that were taken during the fifth year. Would he ever get it all done before term started? The Durleys might not be locking his books away anymore but they made sure he was too busy during the day. Harry tried to work on it after everyone was asleep. He got used to waking up in the morning with his head pillowed on one of his spell books.


	4. Birthday Black and Blues

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

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Chapter 4 Birthday Black and Blues

Over the next few weeks, life fell into a familiar pattern at Private Drive. In the morning Harry tutored Dudley, in the afternoon he spent his time doing odd jobs for Mr. Krumpet, and in the evenings Harry spent time working on his school work, with some chores thrown in for his aunt for good measure. At first Harry was stiff from laboring in the yard but with good food from Mr. Krumpet, he soon became tan and fit.

Harry noticed that Dudley's old hand-me-downs did not need to be rolled up as much in the cuffs and sleeves even though they hung loosely on his frame because Dudley was so fat. Now that his body no longer ached, he was almost glad for the exercise. It had been over a year since he had been to regular Quidditch practices. He was really looking forward to playing Quidditch again. Harry wondered what would happen to the Gryffinder team now that Oliver Wood had graduated.

Aunt Petunia banged on Harry's door, yelling at him to come down for breakfast. The kitchen table was piled high with brightly colored packages of all sizes and shapes. She set Harry to making a large platter of eggs and bacon. In honor of Dudley's birthday, Dudley's diet was suspended for the day.

Uncle Vernon came down for breakfast, ordered Harry to get him a cup of tea and kissed Dudley. Then he announced that in honor of Dudley's birthday, Dudley would be excused from lessons so he could open his presents and try out his new games. This was the first time Harry had been glad it was Dudley's birthday; having a morning off made Harry feel like he had gotten a gift. In fact it was the best present the Dursleys had ever gotten him.

In honor of his birthday, Dudley had a large breakfast of eggs and bacon. Harry grabbed a piece of toast and headed upstairs before Aunt Petunia got the idea that Harry's free time could be filled with a few chores.

Harry lay back on his bed and stretched luxuriously. Then he took out his spell book and began his essay on wards.

_Describe the seven types of Warding Charms and the seven classifications of each._

_ Types: Personal, Domicile, Interpersonal, Extra-personal, Object, Mobile and Perimeter._

_ Classifications: Trip, Keyword, Barriers, Defensive, Entrapment, Shield, Diverting, and _

_ Deflecting._

He had gotten all the way through Personal and Domicile wards before it was time to go to Krumpets.

Mr. Krumpet had been experimenting with ways of cooking potatoes again so Harry had a good meal of baked, fried, and boiled potatoes with a variety of toppings. It was just as well Harry had gotten a good meal at Mr. Krumpets because he returned in time to watch Dudley gobble his birthday cake. It was enough to turn anyone's appetite.

Mrs. Dudley cooed as she wiped icing off Dudley's cheeks, "I hope my Dudley has enjoyed his special day. Mummy is so proud of how hard you've been working. You deserve a day off."

She kissed his cheek getting smudge of chocolate icing on her chin.

"Come on son," beamed Uncle Vernon, "Now you've practically a man, let's go watch the fights on your new T.V." Vernon clapped Dudley on his back and they retreated to the living room.

Harry cleared up the table as Aunt Petunia washed the dishes. From the other side of the room, sounds of a wrestling match drifted in. The contestants were screaming obnoxious insults at each other and making improbable boasts. Aunt Petunia sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

"My little Dudley. He's such a man. Father and son." She glared at Harry and told him to wash the floor after he finished washing the table.

The floor around Dudley's chair was littered with the residue of his meal. Harry muttered to himself that Dudley ate like a two year old. Fortunately, Aunt Petunia hadn't heard, she had rushed to the phone to call her friends so she could boast about how mature Dudley as. His aunt had bragged her way through three phone calls by the time Harry had finished.

"Here," she said thrusting a bowl of pretzels at him, "Take his to them." She turned back to the phone already dialing by the time Harry turned and headed down the hall.

The wrestling match had been replaced by boxing. The new T.V. was so big it took up most of a wall. His uncle and cousin were taking up most of the couch, shouting at the TV and making jabbing motions with their fists.

"Aw. C'mon..hit 'im!" yelled Dudley.

"What a wuss!" sneered Uncle Vernon.

"I could do better than that!" jeered Dudley.

As the commercials came on, Uncle Vernon hit the mute button on the remote control. Dudley protested that he liked to watch the commercials but Uncle Vernon chuckled.

"Just a minute. I've got something special for you; some more birthday presents for you!"

Dudley forgot all about the commercials . "Give them to me."

"I'm sure you can do better than that wimp on TV," Uncle Vernon said proudly.

He reached under the couch and took out a large package wrapped in gold foil. Then he noticed Harry standing there with the snack bowl.

"Got something for you too, not that you deserve it."

He handed Harry a paper grocery sack. Dudley stopped in the middle of ripping the paper from his box and stared.

"How come he gets a present? It's my birthday!"

Harry was wondering the same thing. Harry's birthdays were usually unmarked events at the Dursleys. He had never received presents from his aunt and uncle unless you counted an old pair of socks he had once gotten.

"Well it's really part of your present," he soothed Dudley. "Open yours and you'll see."

Dudley finished tearing off the wrapping and pulled open the box. Inside was a pair of fancy new boxing gloves.

"What do you have to say to that, eh?" beamed Uncle Vernon.

"What are they?" asked Dudley.

"Why these are the best boxing gloves money could buy," announced Uncle Vernon. "You are becoming quite the man, now. I bet you could punch as hard as those guys on TV!"

Dudley grinned and jabbed the air, then his face took on a puzzled expression. "So what's he got?"

Harry opened the bag and peered inside. Harry told himself he should have guessed what was coming; he had been so stunned by the idea of Uncle Vernon giving him a present that he couldn't think clearly. Inside was a pair of beat-up boxing gloves. Harry took then out. They were ripped in places and the wadding showed.

"Don't think you will get anything else for your birthday. You are lucky I was able to find these at a yard sale."

Harry looked at the gloves and then at his uncle. "What are these for?" he asked at last.

"Dudley needs someone to practice on, of course," Uncle Vernon said as if Harry was being stupid when Harry continued to gape at him.

"B…I can't," Harry began. "I don't know how."

"Of course you will," Uncle Vernon said loudly. "Those exacting committee members of the Smeltings review board keep sending letters advising an exercise training program. The Smeltings school nurse will be very pleased to hear it."

"I won't!" declared Harry, throwing the beat-up gloves to the floor.

"Oh yes, you will," Uncle Vernon bellowed. He grabbed the back of Harry's collar and began forcing him down the hallway and up the stairs. "Come one Dudley," said Uncle Vernon between grunts from his struggling with Harry. "I want to show you the rest of your presents."

That got Dudley's happy cooperation and the two of them easily overpowered Harry by sheer mass and dragged him toward the guest bedroom. Using his shoulder, Uncle Vernon opened the door and pushed Harry in, followed eagerly by Dudley.

All the bedroom furniture and pictures had been removed. The center of the room was dominated by a mat fenced off by ropes. Along the side of the room was an array of sports equipment including, weights, jump ropes and a punching bag suspended from the ceiling.

A large poster that looked like a heavily muscled troll in long underwear with a bed sheet tied to its back hung on a wall. It took Harry a while before he recognized it as one of those novelty posters where you can have your face put into a picture. Harry almost laughed out loud at Dudley's pudgy face on top of that ridiculously over muscle-muscled body. Across the bottom in bright red lettering it said "Dangerous Dudley." In his head, Harry thought of a spell that would have changed it to "Dudley Dunderhead."

"Now isn't that something!" Uncle Vernon said proudly. "Since we aren't going to use this room over the summer –Aunt Marge has refused to step foot in this house while 'that vicious, ill-bred mutt' is here." He glared at Harry.

Harry decided later that it would have been wiser to act thrilled about the room and the prospect of being Dudley's punching bag. Seeing how much Harry didn't want something made Dudley just wild about it. If Harry had acted enthusiastic, Dudley who hated exercise would probably have thrown a temper tantrum and refused. But it was too late, the damage was done.

Dudley giggled with impatience while Uncle Vernon laced on his gloves, hampered by the jabs Dudley kept making in the air with his fists.

Uncle Vernon chuckled at his son's eagerness, "A regular powerhouse."

Then he roughly pulled Harry's gloves on and laced them and took of Harry's glasses. "Not paying for a new pair," he said when Harry objected that he couldn't see.

"I'm gonna pound you to paste!" crowed Dudley as Harry edged onto the mat.

Uncle Vernon was calling encouragements to Dudley who laughed and threw some punches at Harry's head. Without his glasses, Dudley resembled an animated bean-bag chair the size of Frankenstein. Harry was out of practice playing Quidditch but bludgers were harder to avoid than Dudley's fists and Harry easily managed to dodge aside as Dudley went blundering by.

"Stay still, you coward," yelled Dudley. It was much easier hitting someone when you had Peirce to hold them for you.

Uncle Vernon sniggered, "What a wimp. Too yellow to try and fight."

"Too week and cowardly to fight," said Dudley making more jabs at Harry and starting to pant. This was more exercise than Dudley usually got in a month.

"Well what do you expect?" Uncle Vernon went on as if Harry were not there. "His kind is always inferior. That's why they resort to cheap tricks; too cowardly to stand up to a real man. Bet his father was like that".

Dudley laughed disdainfully.

Harry had never wanted to hit Dudley more. Decided he would never have a better opportunity, Harry drew back his fists to punch Dudley on the nose. At that moment, Uncle Vernon shoved him from behind. He felt his fists impact on Dudley's shoulder. Dudley staggered backwards and landed awkwardly on his rear end and began to howl.

Harry's triumph didn't last long. His uncle grabbed him by the upper arm and shook him. "None of your nasty under-handed tricks now," snarled Uncle Vernon.

"I hit him fair and square," retorted Harry, "or at least I would have if you hadn't pushed me."

"You cheater!" yelled Uncle Vernon, shaking him again.

Harry caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye and turned just in time for Dudley's fist to crash into the side of his face. He felt as if he had been hit with a wrecking ball. This was one sport where Dudley's sheer mass gave him the advantage. Harry sprawled on the mat trying to get his legs under him and scramble to his feet. Crowing triumphantly, Dudley came at him again, pummeling every part of Harry he could reach.

Harry had already murmured two syllables of a spell before he realized what he was doing. Frantically, he scrambled backwards, crab-like until he was out of Dudley's reach. He crawled out of the ring and grabbed the ropes and pulled himself to his feet.

Dudley cheered and Uncle Vernon lifted one of his son's fat wrists above his head and announced, "The Champion!"

Harry was trembling with reaction, not so much from the beating or even his rage at his Uncles' blatant unfairness, but at how close he had come to losing control and cursing Dudley.

"Ha!" chortled Dudley, "not looking so good now are you?"

"Take away all those foul tricks and you're nothing," jeered Uncle Vernon, "slight-of-hand doesn't mean nothing against a real Man!"

Suddenly, Harry knew that if he stayed there a moment longer, he really would lose control and throw some curses, with or without his wand. Harry used his teeth to loosen the laces on his gloves. Frantically he tore them off. Abruptly, he turned and ran from the room, bounded down the stairs and fled the house.

.

.

At first, Harry had no idea of where he was going, only a desire to get away before he got himself expelled. Maybe he could get to a phone and call Hermione or something and figure out what to do and how to get his stuff. He was halfway down the street when he ran head-long into something that knocked him flat.

Harry picked himself up, but there was nothing there.

He squinted up and down the quiet twilight of the street, but there was no one there. He could hear a dog barking in the distance, but there were no other movements or sound. He started forward and again collided with an invisible barrier. Then he cautiously extended his hands in front of him. Directly in front of him was an invisible wall.

Stretching his arms to either side and as high up as he could reach, the barrier felt smooth. He pushed against it with all his strength. It seemed to give an inch but no more. He took a shot running start and threw his shoulder against the unseen barrier and bounced off. Harry began walking back and forth but the invisible wall stretched out in both directions. After following it a bit he found it curved inwards.

Harry picked up a pebble and tossed it. It easily sailed through the empty space in front of him.

The wall cut across someone's lawn. Harry felt his way along until it came to a fence. He scrambled up the fence but even with the extra height, he could not feel the top of the wall. Climbing down, he tried digging down where the wall crossed a ditch but it seemed to extend down into the earth as well as above.

A car came down the street. Harry flattened himself in the ditch. The car pulled up to the curb and a man stepped out, picked up a briefcase and strode along the walk and up to the house next door and let himself in with a key. When the door closed, Harry hurried up to the sidewalk, but the invisible wall was still there. Harry continued to walk along the curving wall that wasn't there. Rocks and cars could pass through; so could people. Only he couldn't.

The Confinement Spell from the Ministry of Magic.

He was trapped. Despair seemed to settle on him and he sank to his knees beside the boundary of his personal prison. His face was really starting to hurt now that his fury was fading. He leaned his forehead against his arm. His nose was bleeding.

He sighed and got up. First he'd better clean himself up a bit, then he could try to work out what to do. He didn't want to go back to the Dursleys just yet. They might try locking him up again. He doubted that the Ministry would care as long as he was safe. He wondered if Dobby was working for the Ministry now; it was the type of thing the elf would come up with.

It was really getting dark now. He went to Mr. Krumpet's house and walked around back to the spigot. In the last glow from the setting sun he started to wash the blood off his face.

Suddenly he was blinded by a bright light and a harsh voice called out "Stop right there. Make no sudden moves. Keep your hands where I can see them."

Harry froze in his half-bent over position, squinting into the light.

"Harry!" said the voice. "What are you doing here?"

Harry started breathing again. "It's me, Mr. Krumpet. I…I…just wanted to wash up a bit."

"I thought you were a prowler. I almost hit you with my torch. What happened to you?"

"Dudley got a lot of boxing equipment for his birthday," Harry explained.

"You had better come inside and get cleaned up proper. Pinch your nose: it will help stop the bleeding."

Harry did as he was told. Mr. Krumpet sat him down at the ktchen table and began dabbing his face with a damp rag. Harry couldn't help flinching at Mr. Krumpet's touch as he examined his face. At Mr. Krumpet's direction he took off his shirt. Harry grunted as the old man walked around prodding his torso.

"Well nothing is broken as far as I can tell. You will have some pretty spectacular bruises through, especially that eye."

Harry's left eye had almost swollen shut. Mr. Krumpet went to his freezer and took out a package of frozen peas and tossed it to Harry.

"Put that on it. It might help keep the swelling down. "

Harry pressed it to his face and considered asking Mr. Krumpet if he could use his phone to call Hermione. Ron didn't have a phone and without Hedwig he had no way of contacting anyone. Besides with the Ministry confining him to the house, he didn't know what they could do anyway. He really wanted to talk to Black but his godfather was harder to than anyone. He needed a way to deal with this on his own.

He sighed and looked up to see Mr. Krumpet considering him with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What I can't figure out," he said at last, "Is how you got beaten up so badly by the great tub of lard?"

"He is a lot bigger than me," said Harry bitterly, "And he had help. I was doing alright until my Uncle grabbed me."

"There is more to winning battles than sheer size. I would wager you were stronger from the yard work I've seen you do."

Harry looked at Mr. Krumpet and said nothing. As much as he wanted to pound Dudley into past, he didn't think living at the Dursleys would get any easier if he did. On the other hand now that Dudley had a taste of victory, he doubted that Dudley and Uncle Vernon would simply drop the sport out of disinterest.

"You look pretty bruised up but no really serious injuries. What stopped you from fighting back?" Mr. Krumpet speculated.

Harry didn't say anything. How could he explain to Mr. Krumpet how he had almost lost control and cursed them? Harry stared at the table in front of him.

"You are afraid. I didn't think you for a coward. "

That touched a nerve. "You don't understand," Harry mumbled. Parts of his face had swollen so it was difficult to talk. "It's not just whether I could hurt someone or not, but…I almost…lost control."

Now it was Krumpet's turn to be silent. Then he began moving around the room, taking things out of cabinets and putting them on the table. Harry watched in silence as Mr. Krumpet put up water for tea. He opened several canisters, but instead of tea, a musty scent drifted up. Krumpet took a handful of dried leaves and twigs from each container and put them into a shallow bowl. When the whistle blew on the kettle, he poured it over the leaves. Sweet, musty steam rose into the air.

"Old family recipe," explained Krumpet. "After it steeps a moment, it makes a good poultice for minor abrasions." He shrugged. "It never seemed to do much for the swelling and the bruises, but it does seem to deaden the pain a bit."

The old man's mouth quirked in an ironic smile as he dipped a washcloth in the bowl and squeezed out the extra liquid.

"I got into plenty of scrapes when I was a boy."

He began to gingerly dab at the contusions on Harry's face.

"My mother used to scold me every time I came home with a black eye or a bloodied nose."

He paused to rinse the cloth in the bowl again.

"There was this gang of toughs in my neighborhood who took a dislike to me when I refused to kowtow to them. I would come home and she would bathe my face in herbs and give me a tongue lashing. No matter how she scolded, her hands were always gentle."

The warm water was very soothing.

"But the thing that really got my goat was that I could have stopped the fights if I wanted to."

"By running away?" mumbled Harry. "I'd be happy to leave, but I can't."

Krumpet snorted with disgust. "Don't be stupid. Showing weakness only encourages bullies to be more viscious."

Harry set down the peas and stared at Krumpet through the one eye that he could open.

"No, the way to deal with bullies is to hurt them so badly that they can't hurt you. They are cowards and the only thing they can understand is power: their power over others or a stronger power over them."

Krumpet wrung out the cloth and applied it to Harry's eye. The warm water did seem to leach the pain out.

"Bullies seldom stand up to someone who shows that they are willing to really hurt them."

Harry asked, "What if they are bigger, stronger than you?"

Krumpet got up and filled a glass with water, then he rummaged in a drawer. After a moment he returned to the table and handed Harry a glass and a packet of Tylenol.

"That came in the post. A promotional for some analgesic. I always suspected the benefits of my mother's remedy had more to do with the warm water than the herbs."

Harry tore open the packet. There were two pills inside. He swallowed them with a drink of water.

"Size and strength isn't what I said," Krumpet corrected. "It's a matter of proving you have a willingness to truly hurt your enemy. Bullies want to intimidate to make themselves feel stronger; they may enjoy causing harm but they almost never have the desire to obliterate their opponents. If you eliminate your victim where's the fun of gloating?"

Harry shifted in his chair. Adults weren't supposed to talk about "obliterating opponents" they were always advising restraint. It made Harry feel uncomfortable; as much as he hated the Dursleys, he didn't _really _want to hurt them just to get away from them and he said so.

Krumpet wrung out the cloth again and spread it on the bruises that were coloring his shoulders.

"Really?" he asked fixing Harry with an unblinking stare. "You never wanted to really hurt and eliminate your enemies?"

Harry remembered when he had found out that Sirius Black was thought to have betrayed his parents. He remembered how close he had come to killing his godfather. The sound of his glass vibrated against the table brought his attention back to Krumpet's kitchen. He hastily let go of the glass and put his hands in his lap, hoping that Mr. Krumpet hand't noticed how his hands were trembling.

"There are laws against doing things like that."

"Bullies work outside the law. They have no respect for it. Rules only work in ordinary circumstances when everyone agrees to follow them. Those who don't need to be eliminated. Sometimes you have to work outside the rules when the situation calls for it. I'm sure there are times when you feel the circumstances warranted the breaking of a few rules?"

What was Mr. Krumpet getting at? That he should murder the Dursleys? The man just calmly continued rinsing the cloth in the herb solution. The warmth helped his muscles relax.

"I think that what really burned me up as a kid," Mr. Krumpet went on in his quiet voice, "was that all the time my mother was scolding me for getting into fights, I could have stopped them anytime I wanted by showing them I as stronger than they were. I let them knock me down and kick me around because I chose to hide my superiority. For years I pretended to cower before them, and all the time I knew that they harassed me not because they were dominant but because I chose to exercise restraint and pretend I was weak."

Maybe Krumpet did understand. He could have put the body bind spell on the Dursleys but instead he played by their Muggle rules and let them beat him up. He even let them cheat, call him a coward. Ran from them.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Oh eventually I got tired of being good and taught them all a lesson they would never forget but I was leaving home and in the impetuousness of youth, was eager to burn a few bridges."

Krumpet poured Harry a cup of tea and put a plate of scones at his elbow.

"Now you've got an old man wheezing about 'the good old days'," he chucked.

Mr. Krumpet spread another warm cloth over Harry's face.

"Just let it sit there for a bit."

Harry nodded he could feel his muscles loosen as the tension eased out of them.

Suddenly Harry felt extremely sleepy. He realized he was about to doze off on Krumpet's kitchen table. He squinted at the clock, trying to bring it into focus. How did it get so late?

"I'd better be getting back. Thank you very much, I really do feel much better now." He pushed himself up and found that it took some effort; his limbs were so relaxed, they didn't seem to want to move. Harry covered his mouth to stifle a yawn.

"It's so late, why don't you just sleep here tonight. I'm sure the Dursleys would rather not be disturbed at this hour. It would be no problem, you can camp-out on the couch."

Harry didn't think the Dursleys would appreciate being woken up either. He yawned again. He could sleep here and go back first thing in the morning. He mumbled his thanks to Mr. Krumpet and stumbled to the couch, took off his shoes and stretched out. He was asleep before Mr. Krumpet finished covering him with a blanket.

.

.

A chill wind whipped Harry's cloak around him, making him shiver, but making no sound. Swaying branches shed bizarre shadows over the massive oak door and the carved stone lintel in front of him.

A squeal of metal made Harry turn to see a wrought iron gate swing shut behind him with clang. The sound of the door slamming open, made Harry spin around again. '

'I've been here before,' Harry thought as a gust of wind pushed him up the flagstone path and through the door. The hall was dimly lit from a candle that stood in a sconce by the door at the end of the hall.

'I'm dreaming,' thought Harry as he seemed to drift down the hall. He told himself to wake up as he approached the dark door at the hall's end but his feet continued on their own accord and he descended the curving passageway step by step.

Beyond the next curve a red glow lit the stone walls. Somehow Harry knew what he would find as his feet carried him involuntarily forward. The glow was from a fire on which sat a cauldron. In front of the cauldron, four figures stood silhouetted.

"….so that is all you have come to report?" A few minor injuries. I want my enemies dead! You were to have abducted him and brought him to me."

The pain that flashed across the scar in Harry's forehead was enough to tell him who the speaker was even before he heard the cold, high voice.

"….Master…Master…forgive me. I am weak. Dumbledore is too strong for me I could not ….please master…."

The other figure cringed and bowed.

"Excuses! Always you come to me with sniveling excuses. Maybe I should let Nagini put an end to them?"

A huge snake slithered forward, its eyes flickering in the firelight.

"…no…Master…wait …I came to report not…not only to beg for forgiveness for my weakness but because I think there might be another opportunity…please master, let me explain."

The snake hissed eagerly but as Voldemort remained silent the cringing man went on. "I believe that there is a possibility that we can turn him to our advantage. Think of the possibilities that his position would give us."

"But can this be done? Dumbledore has too much influence with the ministry."

"His political position is weakened my lord. It would be a perfect time to take advantage of the fear certain rumors have generated."

"I was hoping to influence the Ministry through Crouch. With the leverage his faithful son could have provided, we would have been able to do a great deal."

"Yes, faithful Barty Crouch Jr. was a loss. But perhaps we can gain more this way."

"Perhaps, but he is weak and ineffectual."

"That is the best time to strike, my lord, when he is confused and frightened."

"Be that as it may, I do not think he can be turned," Voldemort answered, "It would be better to kill him now."

Pain seared though Harry's scar.

"My lord!" begged the cringing figure, "I beg you, give me leave to try."

"Do not listen to him, my lord. Dumbledore may yet find a way to save him," Wormtail whined.

The last figure turned its tall frame toward Petigrew and said in a voice that was disguised but still dripping with scorn. "Even if you cannot bring him over to our side, the poison will render him powerless. Even Dumbledore cannot make potions as I."

They are going to poison someone, Harry thought.

"Why should we listen to you?" sneered Petigrew, "We don't even know who you are. Why are you disguising your voice?"

"Lord Voldemort knows who I am and trusts me. It is you I don't trust."

"And no one has been as successful in turning difficult cases as I have been, "the other figure continued. "Think of what a blow to Dumbledore it would be if he even_ thought_ I might succeed."

"Very well," Voldemort hissed, "You may try." Then he turned back to the taller figure. "Can you prepare the antidote?"

The tall figure bowed very low before answering. "I can prepare a concoction what will suspend the

action of the poison until the drinker ingests a new dose of poison."

"I can't decide if I hope you succeed or not. On one hand I will get a servant who is in a position to shake the wizarding world, on the other hand, if you fail my bitter enemy will be rendered powerless. How I have ached for that moment. Either way, Dumbledore will be devastated. He and his Ministry will look weak and ineffective. Then those quislings who followed him will come flocking to me! Either way, I win!" Voldemort's high cold laugh echoed around the subterranean room.

Pain flared in Harry's scar. The burning spiraled upward in intensity with the sound of Voldemort's chilling laughter.

.

.

Harry sat bold upright, his hands pressed to the burning sensation in his forehead. He was breathing hard, shaking and sweating. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was in the darkened room. He fumbled for his glasses but couldn't find them. Now that the pain had faded from his scar, he became aware of how the rest of his face ached. The left side of his face was swollen so that he could barely open his eye. The previous evening came back to him slowly and he realized he was in Mr. Krumpet's living room.

He sat in the dark room, feeling achy and groggy. The house was absolutely silent. Harry wanted to get up and check the clock but he didn't want to disturb Mr. Krumpet. While considering what to do, he lay back down and slept again.


	5. Visiting

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 5 Visiting

Harry was woken up by someone shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes or rather, tried to. Only one opened.

"Good morning, Harry," Mr. Krumpet greeted him.

Harry pushed himself up. Everything ached.

"How are you feeling."

"Everything is stiff, sore, swollen, or all three," Harry yawned. He still felt groggy.

Mr. Krumpet yawned as well and rubbed his eyes.

"I guess we stayed up too late for an old man like me. What we need is a good strong cup of something with a lot of caffeine. Do you drink coffee?"

"Not usually. My Aunt and Uncle say I'm not old enough."

"It'll really wake you up."

Harry got up. He wished he had his glasses. He felt disoriented without them. He stumbled to the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. Krumpet was right; the bruises certainly looked a sight. He sighted and wondered what he was going to do about Dudley.

He sat down at the kitchen table and Krumpet handed him a mug of black fluid.

Harry took a sip and nearly spat the bitter liquid out.

"It's straight up double-strength coffee," Krumpet explained. "a habit I picked up when I was in the States. Drink up: you'll feel better."

"I guess I prefer tea," he said. Harry did not want to seem rude, so he drank while Mr. Krumpet watched him. "Thank you, Mr. Krumpet. I really appreciate you letting me stay here last night."

"Don't mention it," Krumpet said, putting down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast. "I hope you had a good night's sleep."

"Yeah, fine," Harry lied. He wasn't going to discuss Voldemort with Mr. Krumpet.

Mr. Krumpet watched Harry while he ate his toast and eggs. "There are things you can do, you know. It's not okay to let yourself be beaten up like that."

"I don't plan to make a career out of it," Harry muttered acerbically.

"There are people who can help you," Krumpet suggested gently.

He must be talking about some social workers. Harry didn't think it would help matters if the Social Services tried to take him off to foster care and found that at one hundred strides from the house he was stopped by an invisible barrier, especially if he was inside a car. He didn't care to explain why he was the only one who couldn't go through. It wouldn't do much for his credibility and besides he was sure his Uncle Vernon would come up with his own version of events. It would be his word against the Dursley's. Besides, it wouldn't help things as long as the confinement spell was in place.

Harry shook his head. "Child Welfare doesn't step in because two teenagers were 'trying out their new boxing equipment."

Krumpet snarled with disgust. "Social Services! Always sticking their noses in with mountains of red tape. They always make suggestions about 'getting along' and 'working it out' and always it takes time."

Harry wondered at the bitter contempt in Krumpet's voice.

"And after they leave, the bullies are just bolder thinking that no one can do anything." He paused to collect himself. "I wasn't thinking about Social Services. I was thinking about some friends of mine. They don't like to see inferiors exerting brute strength over their betters. I'm sure they could help you."

Harry wasn't sure he liked the sound of that.

"Who are they?" he asked.

"No one in particular," said Krumpet evasively, "Just people who are willing to help people out and see the right thing done."

Something in Mr. Krumpet's manner made Harry feel uneasy. "I think I'd better try to handle this myself."

"Just think about what I said, Harry. You can't just let them kick you around."

"I know, but I only have to wait it out. I go away to school when term start," Harry said.

"Well I'm always here," Krumpet smiled, patting Harry on his shoulder. "Let me know if I can give you a hand. I'm not as young as I used to be but, sometimes it is the attitude that counts more than the appearance."

Harry was amused at the idea of the old man taking on Dudley. He stared to laugh but then stopped. There was something in the man's expression that said he was partly serious and his eyes glinted with a cold eagerness.

"I better be getting back, now," Harry rose from his chair. "Thank you for everything, Mr. Krumpet."

.

.

Harry walked back to his house in the early morning light, thinking about Krumpet and what he said about friends who would help. He also seemed to have a lot of resentment about social workers. Harry had his own reasons for not wanting to involve them but Krumpet seemed to actually hate them. The whole thing made him feel uneasy.

The post man walked up just as Harry approached his front door. He gave Harry a quizzical look as he handed Harry a packet of letters. Harry gave him a lop-sided smile and shrugged.

Harry sorted through the mail. Most of it looked like advertisements and bills. There was a letter from Aunt Marge and a large envelope from Dudley's school. Harry was tempted to open the Smeltings envelope but decided he probably didn't want to know anyway.

The front door was locked, so Harry had to bang on the knocker until a disgruntled Uncle Vernon opened it.

"Decided to come back, I see?"

Harry hadn't expected to be greeted with open arms but he thought his uncle would have asked where he had been overnight, or even yelled at him. They stood staring at one another for a moment, then Uncle Vernon handed Harry his glasses and Harry handed him the mail and went upstairs to change his clothes.

He dreaded his next meeting with Dudley. He told himself he shouldn't let anything his cousin said get under his skin but he couldn't imagine Dudley letting the matter drop when he saw what Harry's face looked like.

Krumpet was right; looking weak in front of a bully wasn't going to improve his chances. He thought about Mr. Krumpet's mysterious friends again who would 'see the right things done.' Adults just didn't do things like that. He would have assumed he had just misinterpreted what Krumpet was implying but he couldn't shake the cold gleam in the old man's eyes or the hatred in his voice when he spoke of social services.

Harry was still thinking about it when there was a knock on his door and his uncle entered. For a moment his uncle just stared at him.

"Dudley will be having his lesson this afternoon instead of this morning so he can rest his shoulder."

Harry was perplexed at his Uncle's attitude. Why wasn't Uncle Vernon boasting and gloating about Dudley's boxing prowess?

"I've already called Mr. Krumpet and told him you won't be coming today. He told me he found you last night prowling around his house. You are very lucky he didn't call the police."

Suddenly it clicked. Uncle Vernon had been worried that Harry had been picked up they the police or some well-meaning neighbor. They might start asking some awkward questions. The Dursley's were terrified that the neighbors would find out they had the least connection with anything not perfectly normal.

"Yes, he was talking about calling a social worker," Harry told him.

Uncle Vernon's florid face drained of color. No need to mention what Mr. Krumpet might have called a social worker.

"I told him we could work it out without outside help," Harry went on casually. "But of course if I keep showing up with bruises, he might reconsider."

"You'll never be able to prove anything," snarled Uncle Vernon.

Harry shrugged. "No, but visits from Child Welfare would be inconvenient," Harry pointed out. "Word gets around and it is bad for business."

"It would be just as inconvenient for you. They are sure to ask for your school records."

"A Mexican stand-off," Harry agreed. "We'd both lose."

"Or maybe they would quietly come and take you off my hands, you ungrateful brat. It's in the paper all the time; No-good teenagers from good families getting into drugs and gangs and such. Associating with criminal sorts, like that dangerous Black fellow," Uncle Vernon leered. "Maybe I should call them myself."

This conversation wasn't going the way Harry wanted it to.

"What do you want?"

Uncle Vernon waved the letter in his hand. "This is from Smeltings. The review board has set conditions for Dudley to return. They have decided he must pass some exams and be on an exercise program."

"Sounds like that's Dudley's problem," said Harry with a shrug.

"You will get Dudley through those exams," his uncle ordered.

"I can try, but not if I'm too injured or hungry to work."

"But it builds Dudley's confidence, which is so important. Dudley must believe he will succeed," countered his uncle.

"Maybe I had better write to my godfather and ask for advice?" mused Harry as if thinking aloud.

"I haven't seen your owl lately," grinned his uncle evilly, "How are you going to send him a letter?"

"Oh," said Harry putting on a high falsetto voice, "I think I had better lie down. I'm feeling too hurt to see Dudley today."

His uncle's face was florid again. Harry dropped his voice back to normal. "No more skipping meals. No more holding me while Dudley uses me for a punching bag."

His Uncle glared at him but at last nodded.

"There's not much time left until the exams. I may need some time than just the mornings. Harry could hardly believe he had said that.

"You can have all day, if you want it," his uncle agreed.

"What about Mr. Krumpet?"

"Dudley is more important."

"And most important of all – or I will refuse to tutor Dudley no matter what you do- Dudley must want to go back to Smeltings."

"Of course he wants to," shouted his uncle.

"Does he?" asked Harry coolly. "I think I had better ask him. If he says 'no' than he's choosing to go to Stonewall High and there's nothing you or I can do about it."

His uncle pulled on his mustache furiously.

"I think," said Harry, "that I'd better go ask him."

With a glare that could have melted paint off a car, his uncle left. Harry sat on the edge of his bed and tried not to think of what he had gotten himself into. He took off his shirt and looked around for a clean one. He couldn't do anything about his face but he'd rather not be wearing a shirt with blood stains on it when he saw Dudley. He went to the bathroom and groomed himself as best he could. Well he wasn't trying to win any beauty contests.

"Best get it over with," he sighed and headed down the hall to Dudley's room.

Dudley was lying in bed propped up on his pillows. He was watching TV and looking through a wrestling magazine.

Dudley laughed when he saw Harry.

"I don't have to work this morning," said Dudley smirking, "Go away."

"You may never have to work any morning," said Harry.

Harry walked over and turned off the TV. Dudley was so surprised that he just sat there gaping at him.

"They say you have to pass some exams if you want to go back to Smeltings."

"Turn my TV back on," screamed Dudley.

Harry ignored him. "Do you want to go to Stonewall High or Smeltings?"

With a roar, Dudley heaved himself out of bed and grabbed the front of Harry's shirt. Buttons popped off. Dudley held Harry against the wall and raised his other fist.

"I thought your shoulder was injured?" Harry asked causally.

Dudley grinned even wider. "It's feeling better now."

"I could freeze you right where you stand," Harry informed him. "Abbra-Caddabra."

Dudley grinned even wider. "And then _you _will be the one going to Stonewall High. They'll kick you out of that beastly school of yours if you do."

"Yes," acknowledged Harry as if he was not being pressed to the wall with Dudley's fist inches from his face. "And so will you." Now it was Harry's turn to smile. "And if I'm not going to be able to go back to my school, then there's no reason for me to worry about following their rules about not using magic."

Dudley stared at him.

"Think of it: both of us in the same school, same grade, probably the same classes. I'll be able to do all the magic I want. I think I'd want to see you with leeks growing out of your ears."

Dudley's fist crashed into the wall next to Harry's head. The plaster cracked, leaving a sizable hole. Harry hoped he hadn't flinched too noticeably.

"You wouldn't dare!" Dudley panted, "You want to go to your freak school."

"Of course," said Harry, "But are you sure I want it enough to let you beat me up? Besides that is not the question. The question is whether or not **you **want to go to Smeltings or Stonewall? Because, without my help, they'll never let you back into Smeltings."

"Maybe I don't want to go back," challenged Dudley.

"Could be," admitted Harry. "But if you don't you'll be on your own. No gang to back you up; all your friends go to Smeltings. At stonewall, you'll be anobody but this fat kids who was too stupid to go to his dad's old school. Do you think anyone will hang around you? Except for me, perhaps. After all I am your cousin and family should stick together even if one of them has a tail or purple leopard spots."

Dudley smashed his other fist into the wall next to the other side of Harry's head.

"Do you need time to think it over?" asked Harry.

Dudley might be slow but even he could see that it wouldn't be much fun going to Stonewall High with Harry. So spitting with rage, Dudley said, "I want to go back to Smeltings."

"Good, I'll tell Uncle Vernon. We'll start this afternoon. And remember, the choice is yours- if you want to quit and go to Stonewall, just let me know."

Harry ducked out from under Dudley's arm, leaving Dudley standing there with his fists pressed into the wall as frozen as if he really had put the Body Bind Curse on him.

Harry went back to his room and collapsed on the bed, weak with relief. If Dudley had called his bluff, Dudley would have found out that Harry would have put up with _anything _to be able to return to Hogwarts.

Unbidden, Mr. Krumpet's voice floated through his mind. "….some friends of mine…I'm sure they could help you."

Just how far did 'anything' go?

.

.

Things did not entirely go smoothly, but Dudley had motivation and soon started making progress. Now that he had a goal to work toward, the work became something that Dudley wanted rather than something that someone was trying to coax him into doing. That is not to say that Dudley didn't whine and complain; his fat cousin made an art form of it.

By way of encouragement, Harry placed tow papers on his desk. One he labeled Smeltings and the other Stonewall. When Dudley's lace of effort started to get to him he would draw a little picture of Dudley getting cursed and laughed at on the Stonewall page. When Dudley made an accomplishment, Harry would and something the drawing on the Smelting's page where Dudley was portrayed surrounded by his friends. These reminders were rather effective.

Harry had often wondered if Dudley could possibly be as stupid as he appeared. In the name of enlightened self interest, Dudley found an advantage to acting smarter. He might have acted as stupid as a stump because it was easier to get someone else to do the work for him but he could read a TV guide and buy candy at the store so Harry pointed out he couldn't be the total box of rocks he seemed to be.

Once, Harry had gotten so fed up with Dudley's laziness that he walked out of the room. Dudley screamed and threw a tantrum until he was exhausted but he eventually walked sullenly back into Harry's room. Harry took out the books and continued as if nothing had happened.

But not every aspect of Dudley's new endeavors was so satisfactory. Smeltings required that Dudley be in an exercise program. At this Harry balked and Uncle Vernon pointed out that Dudley was willing so it was up to Harry to help in the one sport he was interested in.

Without his uncle making things harder, Harry did not get hit so often. That, and Harry demanded that Dudley use some of the other training that went along with the sport such as jumping rope and jogging. Harry found that if Dudley wore himself out on the punching bag first, it was a lot easier to avoid getting hit later.

Harry's visits with Mr. Krumpet became a lot stranger. In the first place, his work with Dudley meant that he did not go there very often. Then when he got there, most of the time, Mr. Krumpet told him that the garden looked fine and had him sit down to try his latest culinary creations. The garden was becoming choked with weeds which seemed to survive not being watered better than tomato plants.

Mr. Krumpet kept asking Harry how things were going and if there was anything he could do. Harry explained how things were working out with Dudley and why he couldn't come so often. Mr. Krumpet frowned.

"They shouldn't be making you do that," stated Mr. Krumpet.

Harry shrugged.

"Are they paying you?" Mr. Krumpet asked.

Harry wondered why Mr. Krumpet was concerned about that. He hadn't seemed concerned about whether he was paid before. "They should pay you for your work."

Harry really didn't care. He had plenty of galleons in Gringotts and didn't see why he would need Muggle money. In a month he'd be leaving the Muggle world behind. In spite of what he said to Dudley , he had no intention of going to Stonewall High.

"It's not right," Mr. Krumpet went on with righteous indignation. "Let me call some friends of mine. You deserve to get what is owed to you."

"Really, Mr. Krumpet, it's okay," Harry assured him. "Thanks."

It was odd, but Harry started to feel peculiar about going to Krumpet's. He enjoyed his visits a lot more when he was weeding tomatoes than with Mr. Krumpet asking him if he was okay every five minutes. It almost made Harry glad that he was too busy with Dudley to spend much time with him.

.

.

It was just past midnight when Harry had finished his essay for Professor Flitwick on wards. A tapping sounded at his window and he hurried to open it. An enormous barn owl flew in. Attached to its leg was a large package. Harry opened the note, but didn't need to read it to know that it was from Hagrid. The package contained an enormous chocolate cake. Written in green icing were the words: HAPY BIRTHDAY HARRY!

Harry had a little private celebration by himself. The chocolate cake was delicious but Harry couldn't suppress a pang of loneliness that Ron and Hermione seemed to have forgotten his birthday. He knew he was being childish. Maybe there would be a letter from one of his friends in the morning.

But in the morning there was no news of Ron or Hermione. Harry's birthday was a non-event at the Dursleys so Harry spent the morning listening to Dudley whine.

That afternoon, he spent with Mr. Krumpet. He seemed more anxious than ever about Harry's welfare. He had talked a lot about his friends who helped people but when Harry asked who they were and what their jobs were, Mr. Krumpet grew evasive.

On the way home Harry was thinking how very strange it was, when a voice suddenly called his name. Harry spun around. It was Ron. He seemed to have gotten taller since the last time Harry had seen him. He looked even more like his older brothers.

"Ron!" called Harry, "What are you doing here?"

Ron came trotting over. "Gulping Gargoyles, Harry, what happened to you?"

"What?" asked Harry.

"Your face. Looks like trolls have been using it for bludger practice."

"Oh, that," Harry smiled ruefully. "Almost." He had gotten used to the bruises by now. Although there were few new ones, the old ones had gone through an amazing transformation of color. He told Ron about Dudley and boxing.

"You mean Muggles have this sport where they just stand there and punch each other? Weird!"

"I guess you can think of it like a Wizards's duel," said Harry, "only without the wands."

Ron laughed, "And I thought Creaothceann was stupid."

Harry recalled Creaothceann from "Quidditch through the Ages" as a game involving catching boulders in a cauldron strapped to the players' heads.

"Boy am I glad to see you. But what are you doing here? How did you get here?" Harry's mouth spread into a smile. It hadn't much practice at that lately.

"I came to give you your birthday greetings. Since you couldn't come to visit me, I decided to visit you."

Harry felt a bit foolish for having thought Ron might have forgotten his birthday.

"I got here on a **bus**!" Ron's eyes were shining. "My dad said I should try some Muggle transportation. He's read up on busses and things and thinks we should try to understand how Muggles live.

"How was your trip?" asked Harry.

"Well, to tell the truth, I think I prefer floo powder. At least floo powder is faster. It took ages to get here. And this stuff about 'exact change'. It was a while before I figured out that the driver wanted Muggle money. I kept asking what exactly was I to change into. I think the bus driver was about to through me off until another passenger showed me what the driver wanted."

Harry laughed, thinking about transforming into something on a city bus. "Well anyway I'm glad to see you. Uh Ron, are you feeling okay?"

Ron looked at him puzzled. "Yea, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well I was wondering if you had a cold or something. Your voice sounds different."

Ron when a bit pink. "It's my voice. I woke up one morning and it started to change."

Ron's deeper voice was going to take some getting used to. Harry thought of Cho Chang and wondered when he was going to start looking and sounding older.

Harry and Ron walked down Private drive to number four. Harry had never had guests over before because he never had any friends before going to Hogwarts. Ron was looking at the neatly trimmed bushes and the tidy appearance of the Dursley's house.

"It's not as nice as your house, Ron, but won't you come in?" Harry bowed him toward the door in mock politeness, then he pushed open the front door.

In truth, Harry was a bit apprehensive about brining Ron inside. He didn't think his aunt and uncle would have a warm welcome for any of his school friends. He put his finger to his lips and motioned Ron for silence. Then the two of them crept down the hallway and Ron followed Harry's example as they crept up the stairs. When they reached the safety of Harry's room, Harry closed the door with a sigh of relief.

Ron was looking around the bare room. "You could do with a Chuddley Cannon poster or two," Ron commented.

Harry laughed and motioned Ron to sit on the bed. He explained to Ron about tutoring Dudley and why his room had to be so bare.

"That reminds me," said Ron with a grin. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks!" said Harry and tore off the wrapping.

Inside was a sock. A bright green and purple one that looked to be handmade. Harry held up the sock.

"That's from Dobby," Ron explained, "He showed up at my house and asked me to give it to you. My present and Hermione's is inside."

Harry reached inside the sock and pulled out a watch.

"Oh, wow! Thanks!" said Harry, "Mine hasn't been working since the second task last year."

"Hermione put a water-proofing spell on it in case you have any more underwater adventures."

Harry examined the dial. There seemed to be more hands than there should be.

"You can set the hands differently," Ron explained, showing Harry how to adjust them with a small knob on the side. "That way, you can see the time in different places of the world or if you have a potion or something you can sit it to remind you of when you need to add something. I'm not sure what all the knobs do but I guess we can figure them out."

Reaching into another pocket, Ron handed Harry another package. Inside was a chocolate pig.

"This is from Fred and George."

Harry looked at it suspiciously.

"Don't worry," said Ron, "It's safe. Actually they were trying to make their own chocolate frogs but couldn't seem to figure out how to get much of a jump out of them so they made chocolate pigs instead."

"Hey, I wonder if they come with collectable cards?" asked Harry jokingly, but stopped when he picked up the pig and found a card inside.

It had been hand drawn but Harry easily recognized the picture of himself. The card was labeled 'Famous Witches and Wizards of Hogwarts". The hand drawn picture smiled and waved at him a bit self consciously. Harry turned it over and read the back.

Harry Potter

5th year Gryffinder

One of the most renown students at Hogwarts.

Winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Seeker for Gryffinder Quidditch team.

Best known for defeating You-Know-Who.

Hobbies include: getting into Trouble and

Making Draco Malfoy look Stupid.

Best Friends: Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger

Pet: Owl, Hedwig

Harry laughed, feeling pleased but slightly embarrassed at the same time.

"They plan on selling them at school. I think they've got Dean Thomas drawing the pictures but they put the spells on them. They made one for me too. Hold on."

Ron fished in his pocket some more and took out a card. Harry grinned at the picture of Ron's red hair and freckled face.

Ronald Weasley

5th year Gryffinder

Probably the best chess player at Hogwarts.

Famous for his work with his partners in

Subduing Trolls, Rescuing Ginny Weasley from

the Chamber of Secrets, Encounters with the

infamous Sirius Black and Dementors

Favorite Quidditch team: Chuddley Cannons

Best Friends: Hermione Granger and Harry Potter

Pet: Owl, Pigwidgeon

"These are rather good," said Harry chuckling. "Are they really going to do the whole school?"

"I don't know, they won't let me see them but they've been busy. I guess Mom's decided that it's keeping them out of trouble. At least she hasn't stopped them."

They spent a very pleasant time eating birthday cake and chocolate pigs and talking about Hogwarts, their friends and homework.

"I can't thank you enough for coming to see me, Ron. I've missed you a lot," Harry paused before going serious, "And there something else I want to talk to someone about. The type of thing you can't put into a letter. It really may not be anything but maybe you can help me figure it out."

Ron nodded and Harry hesitated.

"Ever since I've come home, I've been having nightmare about what happened at…at the tournament. I wrote to Sirius Black about it and he seemed to think I was normal but he sent me this dream catcher."

Harry fished under his bed and took the webbed circle out to show Ron. "It's supposed to stop nightmares."

"Does it work?" asked Ron tracing the delicate strands with his finger tips.

"I think so. But there have been two times when I fell asleep without it."

Harry paused. He didn't want to alarm Ron, but he needed to talk it over with someone. Enough so that he had even considered talking to Krumpet. But then Krumpet had started acting almost- well too concerned about him. Besides he needed to talk to someone in the wizarding world.

"Most of the nightmares are pretty much the same, but those two were different." Harry told Ron about the nightmares.

"Have you told Dumbledore about them?" he asked.

"No, I haven't got an owl, remember?"

Ron twisted his mouth to one side the way he did when he was thinking. "What do you think it means?" he asked.

"I think Voldemort," Ron winced when Harry said the name, "…I mean You-Know-Who is planning on poisoning somebody."

"Who?" asked Ron.

"I don't know, they didn't say but Voldemort kept talking about Dumbledore being an enemy."

"You think they are going to try to poison Dumbledore?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think they could. Voldemort's servants were saying that Dumbledore was too powerful for them. No I think they were talking about someone else but that Dumbledore would be devastated by it."

"Do you think it was…you?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "Well, it's no secret that he'd like me dead, but they were talking about Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic."

Ron frowned. "My Dad's been pretty worried about how things have been going. People are getting scared. Dad says Fudge is under a lot of pressure to do something. Percy says he has been trying to track down who sent out all those owls."

"What owls?" asked Harry.

"There's been a whole slew of owls spreading all sorts of rumors. Percy said it was all a load of rubbish but someone has been sending out all these owls saying everything from You-Know-Who having been neutralized to the ministry is being taken over by Death Eaters. Of course loads of owls have been bombarding the ministry objecting. Dad says it's a tactic to confuse people and to hide what's really going on. The rumors have really been flying ever since Fudge was in that accident last week."

"What accident?" asked Harry.

"Gee, I keep forgetting that you don't get any news locked up here," Ron said in exasperation. "Last week a Muggle car supposedly lost control and hit the Ministry car Fudge was in. The thing is no one understands how a Muggle car was able to crash into a MOM car. I mean they are supposed to have all these anti-collision and avoidance spells."

"Was anyone hurt?" asked Harry.

"The Muggle was killed, but Fudge and his driver only got a few scratches."

"Vol…I mean You-Know-Who was angry with one of the Death Eaters because he was 'reporting minor injuries' when he wanted his enemies dead. Apparently they had plans to kidnap someone but the Death Eater said Dumbledore was too strong."

"Maybe they have decided to poison Fudge," said Ron. "I think I'd better talk to my Dad about this."

"I think they actually decided not to poison him."

"Huh?"

"There seemed to be some disagreement between some of the Death Eaters on whether he should be poisoned or if he could be turned into a dark wizard," said Harry.

"I know Fudge is short-sighted and incompetent, but he's not going to turn into one of You-Know-Who's supporters."

"Well one of the Death Eaters seemed to think that he could do it and got Voldemort to let him try," Harry frowned, trying to recall the dream more clearly. "Wormtail seemed to think that they should just kill him. But this other one said that they might as well try because if they failed, the poison would work anyway. He said he could make some sort of temporary antidote. They seemed to talk as if he was already poisoned."

"Wormtail was there? Who else?" asked Ron.

"Besides Voldemort, there were three others. One of them had his voice disguised so only Voldemort knew who he was. It seems the Death Eaters don't trust each other very much. Peter Petigrew was the only one I recognized. The one with a disguised voice was tall and the other one seemed familiar but I couldn't figure out why. It's hard to tell with dreams. There was also a big snake, but it didn't say anything."

"Did You-Know-Who say anything else?" asked Ron.

"Just that he seemed real happy either way because it would hurt Dumbledore. One way he would 'have a servant in a position to shake the wizarding world' and the other way 'an enemy would be dead.'"

"I'm going to talk to my Dad," said Ron, "and I think I'd better send an owl to Dumbledore. Do you mind if I use Hedwig?"

Harry looked uncomfortable. "It could just be a nightmare. I wasn't using the dream catcher those two times. I don't want to get everyone worked up for nothing."

"Are you sure it was really nothing?" asked Ron, "You've had dreams before."

"No," Harry rubbed his scare absently, "I'm not sure. That's why I'm telling you."

"Dumbledore and my Dad will know what to do."

Harry felt a bit relieved passing it onto Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley.

Then the door banged open. Dudley stood in the door frame with some papers in his hand. He took one look at Ron and started screaming. He ran howling down the stairs, shouting for his mother.

In moments, Mrs. Dursley was shrieking at Harry. "Who is THIS?"

"This is Ron Weasley, a friend of mine."

"How dare you bring a….a…one of those into my house!" she spluttered. "Get out, immediately!"

Ron gave Harry a sympathetic look as he gathered up his things and hurried out the door. Harry apologized for his aunt's behavior. "I'm sorry, Ron. They can't stand anything to do with magic or Hogwarts. That and I think they have some bad memories about the last time you were here."

"That's not my fault," said Ron

"I know, but it doesn't matter to them. I'm sorry."

"You can't help it. Don't worry about it," Ron sighed. "It's hot. I passed a park a little way from here. Let's go there, we can find a tree to sit under."

"I can't," said Harry and explained about the Ministry of Magic putting a confinement spell around the Dursley's house.

They walked to the end of Harry's invisible tether. Ron walked right through without noticing anything but no matter how he pressed, Harry could go no further than one hundred strides from the house.

Ron looked crestfallen. "I'm sorry, Harry. I was going to try and bring you back to my house. I thought that once Mom saw your face and heard how things were going, she'd be able to get Dumbledore to let you stay with us."

"Ask him again when you send Hedwig," suggested Harry.

"Well they'll have t let you out to buy your school things," said Ron brightening. "Let's meet and go together."

"I'm looking forward to it," said Harry. "Thank you ever so much for the watch. I don't know how you could afo…I mean could have found it."

"Well Hermione got it actually. I told Hermione that you didn't have a watch. Well actually I was telling her that it's not your fault we're late for class, and she said….never mind. Anyway, she found a watch shop run by a witch who had moved from Switzerland. She says she got a great deal on it."

"It's fantastic, thanks!"

Harry admired it again. "Oh, oh." One of the hands was pointing to time for Ron to catch the bus' and anther to 'time for Harry to tutor Dudley'. He showed it to Ron.

"I guess I getter go." Harry helped Ron count out 'exact change' so he would be ready when the bus came and waved from his invisible barrier as Ron hurried down the street to his bus stop.

Somehow he felt even lonelier after Ron left.


	6. Diagon Alley

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

**I'm sorry about the wait this chapter ended up getting out of hand.  
**

* * *

Chapter Six Diagon Alley

Harry spent most of the next two weeks trapped with Dudley and his books. Time crawled by. Each night when Harry crossed off another day on his calendar, he could have sworn it seemed a week rather than merely a day. As the date for Dudley's exams drew close, a kind of desperation began to grow in his cousin's piggish eyes. He no longer wasted as much time with whining, but grew more tense and nervous as each day passed. Harry made a point of having Dudley work out with the punching bag instead of him.

It was a good thing Harry had reached an agreement with Uncle Vernon about meals because tutoring Dudley became all consuming. He no longer had time to visit Mr. Krumpet. So Mr. Krumpet began to drop in to see Harry. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were sure he was checking up on him. They fumed behind their backs about nosey busy-bodies but let him in, afraid that he would call Social Services. Harry knew better but didn't see the need to set them straight.

Mr. Krumpet smiled when he saw Harry, "Good to see you. How are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm okay, really," Harry assured him.

"Are you getting enough to eat?"

"Yeah, fine."

Aunt Petunia had taken to giving Harry his meals by himself so that Dudley wouldn't have to eat his diet food while he watched Harry eat. The meals were not exactly generous or particularly tasty, but at least he wasn't being starved either.

Mr. Krumpet frowned as if he wasn't pleased. "I miss having someone to try my recipes out on."

"Yeah, me too," Harry said.

He watched Mr. Krumpet shifted from foot to foot. The man looked over his shoulder at the Dursleys as if he wanted to say something that he didn't want them to overhear.

"Well, if you need me for anything, I'm practically right next door. Perhaps I could help you with tutoring Dudley?"

Harry thought that his uncle would be glad for someone else to take over the tutoring, but he was mistaken. He could see that Dudley was making progress with Harry's methods and didn't want to change horses midstream. Besides being a lot cheaper, tutoring Dudley kept Harry too busy to get involved with anything they considered aberrant.

Mr. Krumpet left looking disgruntled.

Harry told himself that it was not as if he really cared if Dudley passed his exams or not but it was hard to put in so much effort into something and not care. Besides, he suspected living with the Dursleys would be easier if Dudley did pass. His aunt and uncle were behaving as friendly toward him as they ever had done, that is if you considered sullen silence an improvement over open scorn.

A barn owl arrived, bringing a letter sealed with the Hogwarts crest. Harry had unfolded it and found several pages of thick parchment. He saw at once that it contained supply and book lists as well as a ticket folded inside a letter with instructions for getting the Hogwarts Express at Kings Cross Station.

Beneath it was an additional letter written in Dumbledore's flowing hand.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I received a letter from Ronald Weasley telling me about your dreams. Dreams are very difficult to interpret. None-the-less, I have urged the Ministry to take precautions. You also must take some precautions, which is why I have to deny your permission to visit the Weasleys.

This is also why we have decided to leave the Confinement spell in place even the Misuse of Magic Department has agreed to drop the charges. I urge you again to be most careful about not using magic; it is important not to draw attention to yourself from eyes that may be watching.

An escort will meet you at 10:30 a week from Wednesday morning to take you to Diagon Alley to buy your school supplies.

I look forward to seeing you again on September first and wish you the best of luck for the coming term.

Sincerely Yours,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry was wishing he hadn't told Ron about his dreams. If he hadn't maybe Dumbldore would have let him stay at the Weasleys for the end of the summer like last year. On the other hand, he felt obligated to warn Dumbledore. He might not be too frightened to say the dark wizard's name but on the other hand, Harry had seen him reborn. Voldemort was no joke.

A few days later Pigwidgeon brought another letter from Ron. The bird whizzed around the room, twittering animatedly, plainly excited about making an important delivery. Dudley cowed in the corner with his hands over his heads while Harry snatched the tiny feathered missile out of the air.

Harry removed a tiny envelope from his leg. Afraid that Pig's squeaks would bring Aunt Petunia, Harry hastily put the letter in his pocket and began looking for some way to quiet the tiny Scope's owl. He seized a pillow and pulled off the pillow case and threw it over the bird.

Aunt Petunia barged into the room. She took one look at Dudley and began yelling at Harry for upsetting him. She advanced on Harry, narrowing her eyes at the chirping pillow case in Harry's hand.

She reached out and whipped off the cloth and then promptly began squealing that Harry had brought a mouse into the house.

Harry tried to explain that it wasn't a mouse but an owl that had brought him a letter but Aunt Petunia wasn't listening. She shrieked and began throwing things at Ron's owl. Thinking that Pig had a better chance on its own, Harry let go and the bird resumed its flight around the room. After randomly banging into walls, it found the window at last and made a break for it. After yelling at Harry for another half hour, Aunt Petunia took Dudley downstairs and fixed him an ice cream sundae to calm his nerves.

When Harry was sure the coast was clear, he carefully took the envelope out of his pocket. Inside was a wad of parchment. Harry began to painstakingly unfold the parchment. It took some time to unfold but at last he smoothed a very rumpled letter out on his desk. All the creases made it very difficult to read and Ron's handwriting, not the best under normal circumstances, was even harder to decipher when he was trying to write small.

Dear Harry,

Mum and Dad asked Dumbledore if you could come for a visit but he said that 'under the circumstances' it would be better if you didn't.

I talked to Dad about things. He won't tell me anything except to say that if Dumbledore can't talk some sense into Fudge no one can.

I asked Percy to see if I could get anything from him. Percy has taken over some to Crouch's duties, but his position is not official, so he's is kept out of the more important decisions. Boy, is he fit to be tied! There has been a lot of opposition to the Muggle Protection Act and Malfoy and his cronies want to block Percy from being able to vote in favor of it.

Percy's going nuts. They won't let him in on the important meetings. Something's going on, but Dad and percy won't tell me anything.

Dad figures it would be a good idea to meet you when you come to Diagon Alley. Let's meet in front of Gringotts and we can shop for school stuff together.

See ya soon,

Ron

Harry thought about the letter for a long time as he paced the room that evening. Was his dream real? Fudge already thought Harry was untrustworthy. Would he believe Dumbledore? For that matter, Harry wasn't sure he believed it himself. What if his dreams didn't mean anything? Then Fudge would have even more reason to dismiss Dumbledore's warnings. It wasn't generally considered a good thing to have Voldemort in your dreams. Fudge might suspect that Harry was a dark wizard. These thoughts chased each other round and round in his head as Harry paced the room.

It was actually sort of a relief to turn his mind back to tutoring Dudley rather than worrying about things he couldn't help. The day of Dudley's exams came around. Harry was glad the exams were the Saturday before his trip to Diagon Alley. If it had been later, the Dursleys might not have let him go.

Dudley's parents had allowed Dudley a substantial breakfast 'to give him strength' for his exams. When Harry wished Dudley good luck, the Dursleys stared at him as if he had said a rude curse word. They sent Harry to spend the day at Mr. Krumpets while they drove Dudley to take his examinations.

Mr. Krumpet seemed very glad to see Harry. The old man ushered Harry into the kitchen where he had set out a substantial lunch. When they had eaten all they could, Harry helped Mr. Krumpet clear away the dishes.

"Thanks for lunch, Mr. Krumpet. It was really fantastic," Harry thanked him politely.

Mr. Krumpet waved his hand dismissively, "I'm really glad to have you here without the Dursleys, so we can talk. Are they treating you right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Mr. Krumpet," Harry reassured him for the umpteenth time.

"You seem to be putting up with a lot from them. It might do them some good to teach them some manners."

Harry smiled at the thought. "I'm not sure anyone could do that."

"They are not all-powerful, you know. They should give you the respect you deserve. They shouldn't treat you the way they do."

"I'm leaving in less than two weeks anyway. I'll manage to put up with them for that long."

"It still doesn't give them the right to treat you as an inferior," fumed Mr. Krumpet. "They are not better than you."

"I know that."

"Then why won't you let me teach them to have a little respect."

"Thank you for your help, but it's not your business," Harry said firmly. "I wish you would stop asking."

Krumpet watched him steadily for a few moments. Then he asked Harry to sit down in the living room. It was rather boring just sitting in the chair staring at the walls with Mr. Krumpet staring at him.

"Is there some chore I can do?" Harry offered, "Weed the garden or something?"

"No, why don't you just sit there and relax. You've been working very hard lately."

Harry shifted in his seat and drummed his fingers on the table. It seemed Mr. Krumpet was planning on sitting there all afternoon. After a time his mind began to drift back to Ron's letter.

"You seem distracted. Is something bothering you?"

Harry didn't answer. He couldn't tell Krumpet about his dreams.

"The people you live with, they don't understand you. They don't care about you. I can see why you don't want to tell them anything. You don't belong with them. They may be your relatives, but you have nothing in common. It is as if you come from different worlds. But I know how you feel."

"How could you know how I feel?"

"You don't think anyone could really understand you, so you hide yourself away and keep your secrets to yourself," Mr. Krumpet observed.

Did Mr. Krumpet know something or was he just fishing?

"They say all teenagers feel that way," Harry tossed back.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but maybe I can help you."

Harry shook his head. "Nothing I want to talk about."

"You feel alone. That no one can help you. But you're wrong. I can help you. I have friends that can help you."

"Who are these mysterious friends of yours? You keep talking about them but, when I ask about them you get as slippery as an eel."

"They are people who also feel they have to hide themselves until you join us. I can't tell you anymore, because they trust me and I won't betray their secrets. Just like I won't betray your secrets. I am safe for you to talk to."

"I don't think you'd believe me," Harry mused, "I'm not sure I believe it either. But if I'm wrong someone could get hurt."

"Sounds like you have a lot of responsibility," said Krumpet

Harry suddenly felt a strong urge to talk to Mr. Krumpet; to tell him everything. It would be good to just turn over his problems and have someone else worry about things instead of him for a while. Harry opened his mouth to ask Mr. Krumpet if he believed in dreams when something in the back of his head told him not to. Mr. Krumpet's quiet voice had lulled Harry into feeling safe and complacent. He remembered Mr. Weasley warning Ginny not to trust anything that could think for its self if you couldn't see where it kept its brains. Well, where were the brains behind this mysterious group Mr. Krumpet seemed to belong to?

"No," Harry shook himself. It was as if cold water had been poured over his head. "No there's nothing to talk about. I don't need you or your friends to help me."

"Sometimes problems are too much for one person," Mr. Krumpet pleaded but Harry was thinking for himself now. Mr. Krumpet's friends didn't sound like the sort of people he wanted to get involved with.

"Harry, I've extended the hand of friendship, and it is your choice if you don't want to take it, but my friends, they trust me to keep their existence a secret. If anyone found out about them they would be in danger. I want you to promise that you won't tell anyone about them."

Harry nodded; it wasn't as if he had anything to tell. Who would care if an old man had some friends? Harry had never seen anyone visit. Maybe an old, lonely old man was just making it up. Mr. Krumpet had been good to him, even if he did get a bit strange. Being eccentric wasn't a crime. If Mr. Krumpet wanted Harry not to talk about it then it was the least Harry could do.

"Can I get you something to eat or drink?" Mr. Krumpet offered.

"No thanks, I'm fine," said Harry.

"Are you sure? You look like you could use a little something," he pressed in the same mesmerizing tone of voice he had used to try to convince him to join his friends.

It made Harry feel uncomfortable so although the plate of biscuits and tea looked tempting, he firmly said, "No, thank you."

Mr. Krumpet tried twice more to get Harry to agree to join his friends but Harry flatly refused. Mr. Krumpet fell into a sullen silence. Harry was almost glad when the Dursleys returned.

At 10:30 Wednesday morning, there was a knock at the door. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley looked at each other apprehensively. Harry jumped up and hurried to the door. He opened it but there was no one there. He turned to go back inside and collided with someone. He gave a small yelp as he tripped over his own feet.

Standing just inside the door was Moody. One eye fixed Harry with a stare but the other roved about, continuing to scan the surroundings. His gray hair had been clipped short but Harry could see where it was still growing in on one side. He was dressed quite conventionally, for a wizard. He actually was wearing pants, jacket, shirt and tie. The only problem was that everything was the same shade of brown. His cloak (also brown) was draped over one arm. The effect made him look as if he had been dipped in chocolate.

"I didn't see you," Harry apologized as he scrambled to his feet.

"It is vital that you exercise more caution. It is apparent that you cannot watch where you are going, much less look out for dark wizards and their minions."

"Mr. Moody, are you my escort to Diagon Alley?" Harry asked.

Moody paused to open up the coat closet next to the front door. After peering at the coats suspiciously, he closed the door, looked around and lowered his voice. "Yes, Potter and you may call me Professor Moody. Professor Dumbledore has somehow managed to convince me to teach this year."

He didn't sound happy about it. Harry was pleased to see him looking so well. When Harry had last seen him, he was recovering from a long confinement.

"I'm glad to see you recovered, sir," said Harry.

"Thank you but I'd rather not talk about it if you don't mind."

"Sorry," Harry apologized. "Please, come in," Harry said, stepping around him and leading the ex-auror toward the living room. Moody continued to open doors as they walked down the hallway, inspecting them suspiciously, his wooden leg making an odd clunk with every other step.

"This is my Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon," Harry introduced, "and this is Professor Moody."

His aunt and uncle started stared in an unfriendly way but sat stiffly and said nothing.

If Moody found that rude, he gave no sign. Perhaps he was used to the reaction his scared face and wandering eye gave people. He began a rigorous inspection of the living room. He began peering into every corner of the room, moving furniture and cushions to look behind them. He didn't actually open any drawers or cabinets, but Harry knew his magical eye could penetrate the wood. As Professor Moody systematically searched every inch of the room, Mr. Dursley flushed and protested.

"Now see here," Mrs. Dursley pressed her lips together tightly, "How dare you treat us this way?"

"I dare because I have been asked to ensure Mr. Potter's safety," said Moody looking directly at Mr. Dursley with his normal eye. Harry's uncle stepped back disconcerted about the way his other eye thoroughly searched every inch of him. The he gave Mrs. Dursley the same treatment.

"Well," he growled at last, "you two seem harmless enough but you never can tell."

"Now see here," began Uncle Vernon who was sure there was an insult in there somewhere. "You just can't walk in here and start ransacking the place!"

"Of course I can," said Moody.

Just then there was a thump from upstairs. The professor jerked his head upward searching the ceiling.

"Oh, it's just a boy. For a moment I thought it was an enchanted pig."

Mr. Dursley's florid face turned beet red and he bellowed, "How dare you insinuate that my son is a pig."

"I wasn't insinuating anything. Pigs can be surprisingly intelligent. I once knew a witch who kept several enchanted swine," Moody glanced around the room. "I just hope the pigs aren't offended by the comparison."

Harry thought it would be best if he and Moody left as soon as possible. "I have my letter and list of supplies. I'm ready to go, sir."

"Ready? How can you be ready when you have no idea of the dangers that lurk everywhere?" He took out his wand and the Dursleys stepped back. "I think you could use the extra guard." He waved his wand in an intricate pattern and cried, "Porcina Aparatium."

A small pink pig with brown spots appeared in the middle of the living room. Mrs. Dursley and the big both squealed.

"Good. I can see that you will get on well. Come on, Harry, let's get your things."

Harry looked at the fireplace. "Are we going by Floo powder or did your bring a car?"

Harry hoped it was the car. He did not like traveling by Floo powder.

"Neither. I didn't want to take the risk of opening this fireplace to the Floo network. You never know what might want to get in. I never use Muggle vehicles either. Do you have any idea how many people are killed in those contraptions each year? It would be too easy for someone to kill you and make it look like an accident," Moody explained as he guided Harry out of the room where the screaming Dursleys were trying to shoo the pig out of the room. It was squealing and dodging. Harry heard the sound of furniture being knocked over.

When they were in the front hallway, Moody again inspected the closet before fixing his normal eye on Harry. The magical one continued to watch the commotion in the living room through the walls.

"We are going to Diagon Ally which is teeming with who-knows-what and maybe and maybe minions of You-Know-Who. So I want you to stick close to me and be on the look-out for anything unusual.

Harry nodded although everything was unusual in Diagon Alley. Moody looked around again and pulled from underneath his cloak two pairs of red boots. They were large lumpy-looking things with pointed toes and thick heels.

"Seven-League boots," Moody explained as Harry looked at them blankly. "I enchanted them myself. Don't trust anything I haven't enchanted myself. Each step takes you seven leagues."

He sat down on the mat and put them on. They were so large that he had no problem putting one over his shoe (which was also brown) and the other boot over the clawed foot of his wooden leg. At Moody's impatient gesture, Harry put on the other pair. They reached to his knees with large floppy tops.

"Won't we look conspicuous in these?" Harry asked.

"No we'll be going too fast for Muggles or anyone else to see us when we are moving and that's why I chose such inconspicuous clothes for when we stop."

Harry looked at Moody's completely brown outfit with legs covered in bright red boots and said nothing. Moody took out a sheet of parchment from his pocket.

"How do they work?" Harry asked.

Moody's wandering eye turned to look at him. "You have never seen these before?"

Harry shook his head.

"Each step takes you exactly seven leagues. So we will have to walk together so we don't get lost."

He unfolded the parchment and tapped it with his wand. Immediately a map began to draw itself onto the parchment, starting where the wand touched the paper and moving outward. Harry, looking at the map upside down, was surprised to see that he recognized it. It was his own neighborhood and surrounding area.

Moody tapped the map again and growled, "The Leaky Cauldron."

Immediately a series of red lines started zig-zagging across the map. Next to each segment was a number written in blue.

"Each step takes up exactly seven leagues so we have to move around so that the last step brings us exactly where we need to be." Moody stabbed his finger at the map. "The lines show us which directions to go in, and the blue numbers tell us how many steps to take." He turned the map orienting it to their location which was in the exact center of the map. "Now stand up, carefully."

Harry did so being careful not to walk anywhere.

"Should we open the door?" asked Harry

"No need," said Moody turning Harry and himself to line up in the same direction as the map.

Moody pulled out a compass from his pocket and checked it.

"Since this is your first time we had better hold hands and, oh yes, you need this." From his other pocket he withdrew a chain on which hung a blue crystal. "This talisman will allow you to pass through the confinement spell."

Harry slipped the chain over his neck and took Moody's hand. The Dark Arts' Professor counted to three and Harry picked his foot up and stepped forward. Abruptly, a dizzying whirl of sound and colors assailed him. He was so disoriented that he stumbled. He felt his hand torn away from Moody's grasp, staggered sideways and fell heavily onto a grassy lawn. He rolled over, sat up and adjusted his glasses. He was completely alone.

Looking around he found himself on a sloping lawn in what was obviously a ritzier neighborhood than the Dursleys'. Across the road he could see large houses, almost mansions on wide lawns. Behind him was a house that definitely fit into the mansion category. Except that it looked as if it had seen better days. The lawn obviously had been untended. The mansion had an abandoned air about it. Harry had the peculiar feeling that he had seen this house before. The way the large pine trees seemed to be leaning over the wrought iron fence seemed familiar. Harry considered what to do next.

He had no idea of where he was and was afraid to move lest he end up seven leagues away. How far had he gone when he lost his balance anyway? He just couldn't sit on someone's front lawn waiting to be discovered. Gingerly, he took off his boots and moved off to sit in the shade of a clump of trees and think.

A sound brought his attention to the front door. A cloaked figure was just stepping out. Harry felt relief. This was a wizarding house. He would be able to ask for directions. He only just stopped himself from shouting out a "hello" in time. As the figure turned to go down the walkway, Harry got a brief look at his face. It was none other than Lucius Malfoy. Definitely not someone Harry wanted to meet when he was lost and trespassing.

He flattened himself to the ground but Mr. Malfoy was apparently concentrating on something else as he marched down the stone walkway to the iron gate. He rolled up his sleeve and waved his arm and the gate sung open. Again he felt that sense of familiarity. Mr. Malfoy passed through the gate and vanished. He must have apparated, Harry thought.

Suddenly, something large and red appeared inches from his nose. He looked up to see Moody's brown suit above it. He was holding an odd device of metal and crystal in his hand. He put it in his pocket.

"Professor Moody! How did you find me?" Harry gasped.

"No time for that!" he snapped. Reaching down, he grabbed Harry by his collar and hauled him to his feet. "Quick, get your boots back on. We've got to get out of here!"

Harry hastily pulled the boots on being very careful not to take any inadvertent steps while he was doing so. Moody maintained his grip on Harry's collar.

"Now," Moody growled, "You will take one step forward, on the count of three. One step and one step only. Understand?"

"Sorry, I…I didn't know what it would be like. I sort of tripped, "Harry tried to apologize.

"I didn't ask you what happened; I asked you if you understood the question."

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir," Harry gulped.

"Now: One, Two, Three." The hand on Harry's collar propelled him forward. This time Harry was better prepared when he was surrounded by a blast of sound and color. An instant later it was over and Harry was standing in front of a dumpster behind a grocery store.

"What were you doing in front of the Crouch mansion?" Moody demanded in his gravelly voice.

"That was the Crouch mansion?" asked Harry.

"Why did you go there?" growled Moody.

"I didn't mean to. I've never used seven-league boots before. I was startled. I stumbled. I wasn't trying to go there. It was an accident. Honestly."

Moody stared at him closely with both eyes for a moment before letting go of Harry's collar with a sigh. He pulled a sneak-a-scope from his pocket, looked at it, gave a shrug of agreement, and put it back into his pocket.

"How did you find me?" Harry asked.

Moody pointed at the crystal pendant on Harry' chest. "The talisman has a locator spell on it. I can detect it with this device."

He showed Harry a contraption he pulled from his other pocket. It looked liked one of those puzzles that fit together to make a sphere. A blue crystal imbedded on the surface pulsed steadily.

Mad Eye Moody pocketed it and took out the map again. Harry could see that it had changed. He consulted his compass and pointed toward a cinder block wall.

"Take three steps this time. Close your eyes. Sometimes that helps."

"I think I'll be okay now that I know what to expect," said Harry.

"When you think you know what to expect, that's just when you're really in trouble," Moody said darkly.

For the next fifteen minutes, Harry took directed steps with the seven league boots. He completely lost any sense of direction in a series of abrupt scenery changes alternated by blurs of great speed. At last they stopped on the doorstep of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Well at least we made it difficult for anyone who was trying to follow us." His eye searched restlessly. The real Moody was as paranoid as last year's imposter. Harry reflected as he sat down to remove his boots.

Harry handed his boots back to Professor Moody and the two of them entered the Leaky Cauldron. Tom, the innkeeper's face broke into a craggy smile and he waved a greeting at Harry. Harry waved back and moved to the counter. Moody's magical eye constantly searched the room leaving his normal one free to glare suspiciously at the other patrons.

"Hello, Harry, Good t'see you," said Tom cheerfully, "Here to get your school stuff?"

"Yes. How has business been?" he asked politely.

"Not bad, not bad," answered Tom but he didn't look happy about it. "Pubs always do good business in troubled times. There have been a lot of rumors floating around." He lowered his voice and leaned forward, "about You-Know-Who."

Suddenly they became aware of Moody's presence looming over them. Tom straightened hastily, looking disconcerted.

"Your friend Ms. Granger came through here with her parents just a bit ago. I expect you'll be wanting to meet up with them." Then he lowered his voice again. "…all those rumors about …well you know…they say, they say you met _him_ at the end of last term."

He looked at Harry for confirmation. Harry nodded reluctantly. Like Moody, there were some things Harry would rather not talk about, but Tom went on, "They say…that he's coming back," his face looked troubled.

Abruptly, Moody's hand clamped itself to his shoulder. "Not if we can help it," he growled, "Come, Potter let's go."

The innkeeper looked like he wanted to ask some more questions, but Moody steered Harry out through the back door into the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron.

"A word of caution: It would be better if you don't talk to people about You-Know-Who. People are uneasy. There are enough rumors already without adding to the unrest."

After searching the alleyway (including the dustbins), Moody tapped the third brick from the right and the wall transformed itself into an archway. They stepped through into the noisy crowed street, full of the hustle and bustle of witches and wizards doing their shopping. All kinds of the most fascinating shops lined the street. Next to him, Moody's dour expression and rapidly roving eye plainly said he thought the trip was a foolish exposure to untold dangers. Harry couldn't suppress a grin of excitement.

"Ron and Hermione said they'd meet us in front of Gringotts," Harry said. "We have to go there first anyway."

Moody grunted and began to lead the way through the busy street.

A crowd was gathered on the steps in front of the wizarding bank.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, craning his neck and pressing forward to try and get a better view. Around him he could hear a mixture of voices. Some were demanding to know if there was a problem with their money, others were shouting angrily.

Harry tugged on the sleeve of a witch in grey-blue robes in front of him. "Excuse me, could you tell me what is going on?" he asked as politely as he could while shouting to make himself heard.

"Something about some stupid Muggles," she shouted back "causing trouble right here in front of Gringotts. They should make a law to keep them out."

"Yeah," agreed a burly wizard on Harry's other side. "but we don't need laws to take care of what's our own," his face twisted into an ugly grimace. "We know what to do even if the Muggle-loving Ministry of Magic doesn't."

Harry felt a stab of premonition. "What are Muggles doing here?"

"Donno, probably heard 'bout all them gold an' thought to get their hands on somewhat," the ugly man replied.

"Who cares?" shouted someone else. "We can do what needs doing. I heard last year at the Quidditch World Cup some folks did things up proper."

Without waiting to hear anymore, Harry plunged into the crowd, squeezing between people. Behind him he could hear cursing as Moody followed. Then between tow shouting wizards, he caught a glimpse of bright red hair. Ignoring the curses now directed at him Harry used his elbows to push his way through the angry, shouting wizards in front. Abruptly, he found himself in a cleared space. The angry mob was confronting a group of people standing on the steps of Gringotts. They had drawn themselves into a semicircle with their wands out, keeping the crowed at bay. There was no mistaking the red Weasley hair.

"Ron! Mr. Weasley, what's going on?" Harry gasped. Mr. Weasley, flanked by Fred and George looked furious. Ron looked scared but held his wand as determinedly as the rest. Mrs. Weasley was trying to keep Ginny pressed to her robes. Behind her looking terrified, were Hermione and her parents. Mrs. Weasley stood shielding them from the insults being hurled by the crowd.

"Stand aside, Weasley, if you know what's good for you," roared a large man in the front row of the crowd. "Those Muggles have got it coming to them!"

"If you love Muggles so much maybe you want a taste of it too!" screeched a witch in black robes, face twisted with loathing.

The besieged shifted but did not lower their wands. "You had better clear your lot out of here, Goyle, before something happens to you," Mr. Weasley warned.

The large man laughed at the tremor in Arthur Weasley's voice.

"I'd like to see you try!" he sneered.

Then Mrs. Weasley spotted Harry.

"Harry Potter!" she shouted, "Get out of here."

At the sound of his name a ripple spread through the crowd.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Harry!" cried Hermione and Ron yelled simultaneously, "Muggle-baiting."

"Harry, get back!" yelled Mrs. Weasley again.

Just then Professor Moody shoved his way to stand next to Harry. He turned to the crowd. Those in front stepped back as much at the glare from his normal eye as the disconcerting wandering of his magical one.

"Who's in charge of this mob?" he snarled. "Is it you, Goyle?"|

"Those Muggles. They have no business doing here!" Goyle said belligerently.

"And what business is that of yours?" shouted Mr. Weasley. "They're here to do a little honest business."

"Can't be too careful, these days," yelled the broad witch next to him.

"If You-Know-Who is coming back, we've got to be careful."

"Yeah, stick to ourselves! People we can trust!" someone yelled from the crowd.

"Kick the Muggles out!"

"And how do you know whom you can trust?" snarled Moody at the crowd, "I seem to recall you were under investigation for being a Death Eater."

"I was cleared of all charges," Goyle said and if looks could kill, Moody would have left in a bucket. "You can't prove a thing."

Moody put his hands on Harry's shoulder and turned him to face the mob. "How about Harry Potter? Who has thwarted You-Know-Who again and again."

Harry heard his name being repeated throughout the crowd in whispers and murmurs.

"Who are you to believe?" Harry felt Moody squeeze his shoulders and knew he was expected to say something. He looked at the menacing mob. Goyle was putting his hand into his robes and withdrawing a wand.

"Stop!" harry shouted, "You just can't go around attacking anybody just because they're Muggles."

The crowd stared at him in an unfriendly way but at least no one was casting curses.

"These are my friends. They have as much reason to fight Voldemort as you do."

The crowd muttered angrily and Harry realized that he shouldn't have used Voldemort's name out loud.

"You-Know-Who is trying to make us fight each other by spreading distrust."

"We have laws and trials," Moody went on, "You seemed to think the due process of law was a good thing," Moody said to Goyle. "or would you rather I had just ignored that when I thought I found a nest of Death Eaters fifteen years ago?" Goyle backed away and the crowd began to buzz loudly in confusion.

Just then with a series of loud bangs, a dozen wizards shoved their way through the mob wearing Ministry of Magic Badges. They held up their wands.

"Make way. Ministry of Magic coming through. Clear out there!" The grumbling crowd parted and wizards in matching blue robes and hats stepped forward. "What's all this, then?" the leader demanded.

"Muggle-baiting," said Mr. Weasley. "These people were going to attack these Muggle." He indicated some of the crowd who were trying to step back.

"I won't have rioting and fighting in the streets," declared the blue-robed wizard with a row of stars on his sleeve, shoulders and hat. He spoke loudly so that his voice carried.

"Muggles have no place being here," a voice shouted from the crowd.

The starred captain turned to the Weasleys and Grangers, "Let's have none of that now, put away your wands." The Weasleys hesitated and he added, "Or I'm authorized to disarm you. Put away your wands now."

The Weasleys put them back into their robes and everyone began babbling at once.

"Enough! You are all to come with me." He indicated everyone on the steps. "Now the rest of you lot clear off. Show's over."

They followed the blue-robed man up the steps into Gringotts. The rest of the blue-robed wizards brought up the rear. The crowd seeing that nothing interesting was going to happen began to drift off.

The group with Harry was herded into the marbled hall of Gringotts and their escort bent to talk to a goblin of some importance base on the richness of its clothes and gold medallions it wore. The goblin nodded and led them off to the side. He took out a key, unlocked a door and gestured for them to enter. It was obviously meant as a meeting room. A large polished table and ornate chairs took up most of the space. The goblin gave a short bow and closed the door behind him.

The starred wizard sighed. "I thought this would be a good place to get things sorted out. They'd never riot in here. Sit down," he ordered everyone. "Now Arthur, tell me what happened."

"We were just standing there when Goyle and some of his lot came up and started making trouble," Mr. Weasley explained.

"What were you doing there?"

"We were waiting for Harry Potter," said Hermione. "We made arrangements to meet and get our school stuff for Hogwarts."

The man looked at her skeptically. Harry reached into his robes and pulled out the crumpled piece of parchment that was the letter Ron had sent him. The man took it and read it. He handed it back to Harry with a sigh.

"These are troubled times. People are uneasy. Some folk are just looking for someone to take it out on."

"But that doesn't give them the right to attack innocent people," huffed Mrs. Weasley.

"I know Molly, but sometimes prudence is the better part of valor." The blue-robed man looked uncomfortable then turned to the Grangers. "Perhaps it would be better if you didn't stay here."

Mrs. Weasley drew herself up. "You can't do that! We have rights! They are just doing legitimate business! It's them that should be kicked out!"

"I don't disagree with you. I think half my headaches would be solved if I could just lock a few of those troublemakers up. But we can never pin anything on them. There have been other incidents."

"Why isn't someone in the Ministry doing something about it?" demanded one of the twins.

The officer sighed, "Arthur, I know you have been pushing that Muggle Protection Act so you must be aware that there are those who oppose it. I heard a rumor from the head of Law Enforcement that another bill has been proposed to bar all Muggles from areas that traditionally belong to us."

"But they're here to get their daughter things for school. You can't keep them out."

"This has nothing to do with laws. It's common sense. I'll give them an escort back out to the Leaky Cauldron." The man's eyes slid away from the Weasley's faces as if he couldn't quite look them in the eye.

The Weasleys looked ready to argue but Moody cut them all off. "Wait here," he growled and abruptly clumped out of the room.

Mr. Weasley turned to the blue robed man. "Frank, what's happening? You were never someone to let Goyle, Crabbe and their ilk decide what the law should be."

"It's the time Arthur. People are frightened. They want the Ministry of Magic to do something. They are less concerned with the due process of law. Not everyone feels about Muggles the same way you do. There are a lot of old prejudices. There are a growing number of people who resent having to conceal themselves from those they think of as inferior."

"They are not inferior!" said Mr. Weasley hotly, "Just different."

"That's not how they see it," said Frank. "I've heard an ugly rumor or two about taking control of the Muggles. Everyone may be frightened of You-Know-Who but there are some who think he has the right idea when it comes to Muggles."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked at each other and the Grangers looked more uneasy if that was possible.

The door banged open and Moody stumped into the room. In his arms were some robes. "I got these at a second hand shop. They are not the best, but they'll do."

He handed Mr. and Mrs. Granger the robes. "Now the sooner we get what we came for, the sooner we can leave. With these on, no one will bother you." He tossed them two thread-bear hats onto the table.

Hermione helped her parents put on the robes. Moody was right. The might look a bit shabby but they will not stand out.

Fred and George were whispering to each other. The rummaged inside their robes and took out two wands. "Here take these," said one of the twins. "Now no one will think you're a Muggle."

"Just don't wave it about or you might find yourself holding a pineapple or something."

"Fred and George!" Mrs. Weasley said, "I thought I told you no more Weasly Wizarding Wheezes. What are you doing with those?"

"We were going to see if we could trade them for some Filibuster Fireworks," said Fred.

George, who had his back toward his mother, gave Harry a wink.

"We'd better visit the vaults while we're here and get our shopping done," Mr. Weasley stood up and started ushering them out of the conference room to forestall another argument between the twins and his wife.

Mr. Weasley helped Hermione and her parents exchange Muggle money for sickles and galleons while Mrs. Weasley took her children to their vault and Professor Moody accompanied Harry. Harry was glad that the Weasleys didn't come with him to visit the vault. Harry's parents had left Harry with a small fortune while the Weasleys usually were just scraping by. Harry would have been glad to give the Weasleys some of his gold but he knew they would refuse. Ron was very touchy about it. When they emerged from the rattling Gringotts carts, Frank approached Alister Moody.

"I'd like a few words with you," he said.

I'm taking Potter to get his school things," Moody said.

"This is a polite way of saying 'you don't have a choice; come with us now," the officer explained.

"He'll be all right with us for a while," Arthur Weasley said.

Moodly looked doubtful, but then he often did and at last he nodded. "I'll catch up with you at Flourish and Blots." He turned and followed the blue robed wizards. "Let's go somewhere we can talk in private.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned to look at each other and grinned. It was the first chance they had to look at each other. Now that they were standing on level ground, Harry could really see how tall Ron was.

"Good to see you again," said Ron. Even though Harry had seen Ron just two weeks ago, he was still surprised to hear that deeper voice.

Harry smiled back, "How was your summer?"

Then he noticed Hermione was staring at him. "Ron's not the only one who's changed," she said, "You look like you've been working out."

It took Harry a moment to find his voice. "Uh yeah. The Dursleys have been making me work outside almost every day. You look…uh…different, too."

Hermione was also taller bit it was more than that. Her whole shape had changed. Hermione smiled she looked rather pretty, Harry thought. Ron's face turned rather pink.

"Let's go to Madam Malkum's first," Hermione said. "Now that we are all maturing, I think the first stop should be getting new school robes. Yours looks alright," she said to Ron, "But Harry looks like he's expecting a flood."

Harry looked down and was surprised to see that Hermione was right. His robes were several inches too short."

Laughing they set off.

"It figures I would find you two wherever there was trouble," Harry said. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, but it was getting really scary for a while. I kept thinking about what had happened to those poor people at the Quidditch World Cup…" she shuddered. "It was a good think you came along when you did."

"I guess having a famous name is good for something," Harry hastily changed the subject, "Come on, let's take a look around before Professor Moody catches up with us."

They glanced at the adults who were trailing behind busy with their own conversations. Harry and Ron wanted to stop at Quality Quidditch Supplies but Hermione pointed out that they wouldn't be able to buy anything anyway.

"I know that," said Ron, "but it wouldn't hurt to look."

"Oooh," Hermione exclaimed, "Let's look in here."

At first they thought she was about to drag them off into a used book shop, but recessed behind it was a shop with a bizarre assortment of gadgets, objects, and containers of every material imaginable. Harry didn't have a clue what most of them were. Above the door was a sign that looked to have been made of bits or rubbish. It read "Tremain's Treasures and Trash."

"Wow!" said Ron "Would you look at that?" He pointed to an amorphous blob about the size of a Quaffle. Colors shimmered constantly across its surface.

"What is it?" Harry and Hermione asked.

"I think it's a Shaper. You can put it on the top of an object and it will transform to look like whatever you want."

"Aren't there spells for doing that?" Hermione asked, not very impressed.

"Of course, but spells like that are difficult to do. Not every wizard can do it. I mean sure some things are easy but the Shaper is very versatile. You can change it to look like anything."

"Not cheap, either," said Harry looking at the price tag.

But there were lots of other things to catch the eye, so they went in. Inside were tables and barrels piled high with, as the sign suggested, mostly junk but there were also some more interesting items.

Harry and Ron picked through a barrel that seemed to be filled with rusted engine parts. Harry had almost picked up a hand-sized ball that shimmered softly, when Ron grabbed his wrist.

"I don't know if that one still works, but if it does, you don't want to touch it."

"Why not?" Harry asked. He suddenly felt he needed to feel the smooth surface.

"It's a trap. You put one with some valuables you want to keep safe. So if someone breaks in they pick it up instead."

"So?" asked Harry.

"The 'so' is that they won't be able to put it down. Fred told me he heard of a thief that was found unable to open the door because he couldn't stop handling it long enough."

"I don't understand the prices," scowled Hermione. She held up a leather bag. It had obviously seen better days. "The price tag says it costs eighteen galleons!"

"That's because it is no ordinary purse," said a quiet voice behind her.

Everyone jumped. A thin man with white wispy hair and a black robe with white collar and cuffs stood there.

"I am Tiberius Tremain, the proprietor. That is a Perseus Purse. It can hold an unlimited number of things. It never weights more than it does now."

"Just think, Hermione, you could carry all your books!" Ron laughed

But Hermione wasn't laughing. She looked thoughtfully at the purse. "I'd like to get it but I don't know how much the rest of my stuff is going to cost." She frowned, considering.

"I know," said Harry suddenly, I'll buy it as a birthday present. "It's coming up soon, isn't it?"

"Oh no, it's too expensive," Hermione protested.

"I'll pitch in," said Ron generously. "It will be form both of us."

Hermione and Harry looked at each other. Even split it would still be very expensive. Harry wanted to suggest that he pay most of it but he knew Ron would just get stubborn about it.

Hermione brightened. "I know, I have some money from my parents and my grandmother to get something so why don't I get the rest of my stuff and then we can figure out how much is left over."

Harry could see Moody approaching from outside the shop window.

"I'll tell you what? I'll buy it now and you can pay me back later. Moody might not let us come back," Harry suggested.

Moody entered the shop, just as Harry was purchasing the Perseus Purse.

He glared at Harry. "I leave you for one minute, Potter, and you are already doing something dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Harry asked.

"Don't you know that a Perseus Purse can hold anything? Especially a used one? You never know what someone might have left in there."

"Excuse me, sir," the proprietor interrupted, "but I assure you that it's completely empty. I checked it myself. I check every item I offer for sale."

Moody glared at the shop owner with one eye. The other eye searched the shop. Harry noticed that Tremain seemed disconcerted to see the eye roll up completely in Moody's head to search thing behind him.

"It's not for him," Hermione broke in. "Harry and Ron are getting it for me as a birthday present."

"You purchased it. No refunds," said the shop owner pointing to the sign that said 'All Sales Final.' Then he paused. "Did you say Potter? Harry Potter?"

"Yeah, that's me," Harry said. There didn't seem to be any way to deny it.

Tiberius Tremain looked at him eagerly. "Is it true? What they say?" He looked to the right and left and lowered his voice, "…about You-Know-Who?"

"It's never a good time to take foolish risks," Moody growled. He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and practically dragged him from the shop before any of them could say anything else.

"Happy Birthday, Hermione," Harry said, giving Hermione the beat-up leather bag. He wanted to ask Hermione to let him pay for most of Ron's share without letting Ron know but Ron hurried up behind him.

"Yeah," said Ron, "Happy birthday."

"Thanks," said Hermione, smiling.

They went to Madam Malkin's where Harry and Hermione were fitted for new robes.

"That's one advantage to having older twin brothers; you have two sets of robes," said Harry.

"Yeah, and they're both crummy. But I guess they must have felt bad that they messed them up playing Quidditch so they got me some new dress robes."

Harry grinned, "I wish I had older brothers."

"You can borrow some of mine, anytime you'd like," said Ron generously.

Madam Malkin returned. "I'll have them ready in an hour, dears. Why don't you go and do the rest of your shopping and I'll have them ready then?"

Moody led them to the apothecary shop where he carefully inspected everything by sticking his nose into each ingredient and inhaling deeply before letting them make purchases to restock their supplies. Ron, Harry and Hermione tried to breathe as little as possible while they checked each ingredient against the list from Hogwarts.

Flourish and Blots was filled with students and their parents. It took some time to find all the books on the list. Hermione, who of course had done some research, also got a load of books for background reading. They staggered to the counter balancing a stack of books so high they could barely see over them.

"Watch out!" yelled Ron.

Harry had just time to turn his head to see someone carrying a mountain of books collide with him. In an attempt to keep from dropping his own stack, he lurched sideways and knocked over Hermione. The three of them fell in a tangle and a shower of books rained down on them. A Standard Book of Spells (Grade 5) hit Harry on the head, knocking his glasses askew.

"All right there, Harry?" a voice asked.

"Hello, Collin," said Harry adjusting his glasses. Ron was laughing hysterically.

Hermione scowled up at Ron looking less than dignified. "Ha,ha, very funny.

"Yeah," said Fred coming up. "Where are your manners?" he clapped his hand to Ron's shoulder.

"Shame on you. Help the lady up," agreed George as he strategically placed his leg in front of Ron's feet. The next moment, Ron followed by his texts, joined the heap. Ron laughed harder than ever. He was laughing so hard, that he almost couldn't help Harry and Hermione pull Fred and George down.

Mrs. Granger and Professor Moody looked at the six of them with equal displeasure but Harry could see that Mr. Weasley was trying to keep from laughing. His lips made funny twitches. Moody scowled but then he always did.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"I sort of bumped into Harry. I'm Colin Creevy," said the small tousled boy brightly. "You must be Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," he said brightly.

"That knocked me into Hermione," Harry explained, "sort of a chain reactions."

"You can't even seem to walk into a book store without something happening," she sighed. "A roving natural disaster." Then she turned and glared at her husband, "you're not helping, Arthur."

A crowd of other patrons was beginning to gather to find out what all the commotion was about. Harry saw Susan Bones, a pretty Hufflepuff classmate, give a disdainful sniff as if to comment on how childishly they were behaving. Ron stopped laughing. Hermione looked like she was considering throwing a book at him, but instead began to sort through the pile.

Finally they had sorted through their belongings and were back in line, their good sense of humor returned. A sales clerk approached looking upset and began to babble on at them about inconsiderate customers who made messes and insisted that he clean it up, while Mrs. Weasley apologized, Harry and the others figured they had better get their stuff and get out before anything else happened.

After purchasing their books, they all sat down on the steps in front of Flourish and Blots to try and organize their stuff so it would be easier to carry.

"They really loaded us down this year," grumbled Ron. "How are we going to carry all this stuff? And we haven't even got all the stuff on the list yet."

"Oh stop complaining, Ron," snapped Hermione irritably. "You have less to carry than the rest of us because you can use Fred and George's old texts."

Ron went on grumbling now about having to always use stuff from his brothers. Harry ignored it; Ron always complained about that.

Collin came out of Flourish and Blots and sat down next to him babbling enthusiastically.

Suddenly Hermione sat us, grinning broadly. She took out the Perseus Purse and opened it. She picked up her copy of Enchantments and Entrapments by Eunice Blynder. It was far bigger than the purse, but somehow it seemed to slide easily inside. One by one, she slid all her text books inside. She picked up the purse lightly between thumb and forefinger. Soon they were all putting their purchases into the purse. When they were finished, Hermione easily carried all their stuff in one hand.

"Come one," said Harry spying a wizard pushing an ice cream cart. "I'll get some ice cream."

He went up to the vendor. Instead of the usual peaked hat, the man wore a sort of parasol attached to his head. It completely shielded his face from the hot sun.

Harry gave the man enough money for pumpkin ice cream for everyone and the small man reached into his cart and began scooping out ice cream. The cart must have been very cold for when the wizard opened the cart, clouds came billowing out until the vendor looked like an umbrella poking up out of a cloud-shrouded mountain. The man handed Harry a cone.

"For you, Mr. Potter," the man said politely, just as Moody hurried up to them.

"Don't eat that," he barked.

"What?" asked Harry.

"You should never eat anything that someone else might have tampered with."

"Tampered with? Who would tamper with an ice cream cone? Why?" asked Harry.

Moody's rogue eye wandered about for a moment. "You never know." He looked at the vendor suspiciously.

"He's an ice cream salesman," said Ron swallowing a mouthful.

"What could be wrong with an ice cream?" Harry asked.

"You don't want to even imagine the possibilities," he growled. "Mr. Potter I can't tell your friends what to do, but while I am stuck with escorting you, you will follow my advice. I do not want you to eat or drink anything without my express say so."

Harry looked at Moody's stormy face and decided that there were some things not worth arguing about. He shrugged and turned to Colin,

"Do you want another one? You could give it to your brother," Harry offered.

"Sure," Colin said brightly, "Thanks."

They said goodbye to Colin who gave a last "Alright Harry?" and left.

Under Moody's watchful and wandering eyes they went about finishing up their shopping without further incident. On their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, they noticed a store that that was teeming with business. A large sign advertized Wards and Charms for all Occasions. Moody gave a snort of disgust.

"What are they selling?" Harry asked.

"Looks like amulets and stuff," said Hermione.

"What for?" asked Harry, watching a witch grab five purple crystals mounted on chains from a display and push her way toward the sales counter with the generous assistance of elbows.

"For protection, of course," said Ron.

Harry watched. It reminded him of a TV program he had once seen showing sharks in a feeding frenzy.

"From what? I think I saw Colin wearing an amulet like those over there but it was glowing."

"If it was glowing, then he was ripped off. It's only supposed to glow when it's activated. There are so many scams selling cheap junk," said Mr. Weasley.

"Fools," Moody scoffed, "As if any of this stuff would really protect someone from as powerful a dark wizard as You-Know-Who."

"It makes people feel better," said Mr. Weasley. "If it keeps people from panicking then it does more good than harm."

"Those desperate fly-by-night ward sellers aren't the only one's making a profit from other people's fears," growled Moody. "The weapons dealers in Knockturn Alley have been doing a stiff business and the results of that may not be so harmless."

Mrs. Weasley looked troubled. Arthur, is there anything the Ministry can do about it?"

Mr. Weasley scowled and rubbed his forehead. "It has always been hard to track the activities of Knockturn Alley, even when it is legal, but lately we've been hampered by Fudge and his party. They are under a lot of pressure. People want to feel protected. He seems to think if he ordered the Magical Law Enforcement Department to move in, people would riot."

"He's more worried he'll be voted out," Fred said disgustedly.

"Speak respectfully of the Minister of Magic," scolded Mrs. Weasley.

"You're right, Mum. We should talk about him that way even if he is a short-sighted idiot who care more for his position than the people he's supposed to look out for,"

Mrs. Weasley gave the twins a look but didn't say anything.

"What worries me is what happens when some well-meaning fool gets his hands on something he can't handle," said Mr. Weasley.

"I'm more concerned about what some ill-meaning fool will do," muttered Moody.

They reached the Leaky Cauldron. Mr. and Mrs. Granger took off their robes. Hermione opened the Perseus Purse to give Ron and Harry their stuff. Unfortunately, once something was put in it wasn't so easy to find. After pulling out random items, they finally had to empty the entire purse and sort through everything again. Eventually, everyone had their stuff.

"See you on the first," Ron grinned tossing a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron and stepping through after the rest of his family. Hermione left with her parents through the front door to catch a bus.

Moody handed Harry the seven-league boots and took out the map. Twenty minutes later, Moody deposited him on the Dursley's doorstep.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were beside themselves with rage. They had chased the pig around the living room until the frightened animal had wildly crashed into every piece of furniture. With a wave of his wand, Moody sent the pig back to wherever it had come from. A second pass restored the living room.

The Dursleys did not seem pleased to have their living room straightened up by magic. Harry prudently took his books upstairs. It seemed a good time to stay out of their way and look over his new text books.


	7. Chapter 7 A Funny Thing Happend to

**AN: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.  
**

**Engelbert Humperdinck was a German composer in the 1855- 1921). His most famous work is an opera "Hansel and Grettel". There's no relation between the composer and the character. I just heard the name on the radio and thought it too good to pass up. **

**The title is a play on the title of a musical, A Funny Thing Happened to Me on the Way to the Forum. I don't own it either.**

* * *

Chapter 7 A Funny Thing Happened to Me on the Way to Hogwarts…

On September first, Harry looked at his calendar one more time. He tucked the talisman back into his shirt before carrying his trunk downstairs. Last night he had crossed off the last day of August with satisfying pleasure. Despite the terrible events of last year, Harry had never looked forward to going back to school more. This had been one of the worst summers yet.

Granted the last week had been somewhat of an improvement. Ever since Dudley had gotten his exam results from Smeltings, Harry was freed from tutoring Dudley. It was a near thing but Dudley managed to pass his exams, some of them by the skin of his teeth. Harry didn't exactly expect the Dursleys to be grateful but he thought that they might at least have thanked him for getting Dudley through.

He even had fewer chores from Mrs. Dursley. Ever since Professor Moody had magically cleaned up the damage done by the pig, things had a tendency to straighten themselves up. Mrs. Dursley was so terrified at seeing the couch cushions rearrange themselves after Dudley had knocked them to the floor, that she went around cleaning and straightening up everything herself rather than risk having the feather duster take matters into its own hands. Mr. Dursley didn't trust Harry and forbade him to do any housework. Harry knew the spell had worn off days ago (he looked it up in one of his new books), but he wasn't about to tell the Dursleys that.

Uncle Vernon informed Harry that he would be taking Harry to Kings Cross station.

"Can't risk having that lunatic bringing his pig back again," he grunted.

In the silence they heaved Harry's trunk into Uncle Vernon's company car and Harry climbed in after it. Unconsciously, he checked to see that his ticket was safely tucked into his pocket. Harry's heart lifted at the thought of returning to Hogwarts. He felt as if he were going home.

"See you next summer."

Harry waved cheerfully to his uncle as he was dropped off at the station. His uncle said nothing, so Harry shrugged and pushed his trolley inside.

He was delighted to see the Weasleys and the Grangers waiting for him. Ron and Hermione greeted him.

"We didn't know when you would be getting here so we came early," Hermione explained. Mr. and Mrs. Granger waved a bit shyly. "I think after what happened in Diagon Alley, they're a bit nervous about just dropping me off."

Ron held up a cage and Harry was glad to see Hedwig. Harry tried to offer her an owl treat but she hooted sleepily at him and closed her eyes again.

"I'm afraid she didn't get much sleep at the Burrow," Ron apologized. "There's always so much going on and I would never use the word quiet to describe our house."

"I'm glad you sent Hedwig to tell us your uncle was going to drop you off. We were wondering if we should come and get you," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Thank you," said Harry as he took Hedwig's cage and found a place for it on top of his baggage.

A pile of packages fell of Ron's trolley. Evidently, he had been using Hedwig's cage as a counter weight to keep things from falling off. Hermione sighed and went to help Ron stack things back on. Harry looked around.

"Where's your stuff, Hermione?"

Hermione grinned from where she was helping Ron heave his trunk back onto the trolley. There were frayed straps keeping his trunk closed. Evidently, the rusty hinges had given out. "All I have is two items. I was able to put everything into the Perseus Purse but I didn't want to put Crookshanks in."

Crookshanks looked ill tempered enough at being made to travel in the cat carrier. Harry thought Hermione had a point. He wouldn't want to be around when the cat got let out of the bag.

Mr. Weasley helped him with his trunk and then went to help Ginny. Mrs. Weasley was fussing with Ginny's collar and giving her advice. From Ginny's expression, Harry couldn't tell if she was pleased or annoyed.

"I know, Mum," she said.

Molly then turned to Fred and George. "I'm none too pleased with your marks from last term," she said. "I've talked to professor McGonnagall; you two are going to be put on a strict curfew to give you lots of time for studying if you don't straighten up and fly right."

"But Mum…" Fred protested, "you can't!"

"Maybe we're just not as smart as Percy and Bill…" said George.

Mrs. Weasley's face flushed and she looked angrier than when they had flown their father's car. She usually shouted but this time her voice dropped to a tight whisper. Mr. Weasley , who looked about to say something, closed his mouth and stepped back. The twin boys towered over her but she grabbed their collars and pulled them down to her eye level. Their noses were barely an inch from hers.

"Don't." She hissed in a tightly controlled voice, "Ever." Each word was spaced out, "Say. That. Again." She glared at them each in turn.

"I was just joking," squeaked George.

But Mrs. Weasley wasn't done. "You two are every bit as smart as Bill or Charley or Percy! And don't you forget it!"

"Yes, ma'am," croaked Fred.

Mrs. Weasley seemed to realize that she was half strangling her sons in public and abruptly let them go. She smoothed her skirt and straightened her blouse.

"That is why you will start working up to your potential. And if you or anyone else says otherwise, they'll have to answer to me!"

Fred and George looked like they would rather face a Hungarian horntail.

"We only meant that we were better at different things," explained George.

"We just have different talents," said Fred rubbing his neck.

"That's more like it, "she said sounding almost complacent.

It seemed the assembled Weasleys were about to take a sigh of relief when she turned her attention to Harry.

"And you," it was a firm, no-nonsense tone that would have made McGonnagall proud. "Stay out of trouble."

Harry swallowed hard.

"I thought those two were bad, but you take the cauldron! I have never met a child who has gotten into so much serious trouble. I don't know whether they are encouraging you or you are encouraging them."

Harry swallowed again. Did Mrs. Weasley suspect that Harry had helped finance Fred and George's scheme to set up a practical joke shop? Harry tried to look innocent but there must have been something in his expression that alerted Mrs. Weasley because she narrowed her eyes and peered at him.

"I didn't mean to," he stammered "Trouble just has a way of finding me."

"Harry can't help it if You-Know-Who keeps trying to kill him," Ron said, coming to Harry's rescue.

Mrs. Weasley's eyes softened. "No," she said, "you certainly didn't choose that."

She turned her attention back to Ron. "And you just remember what we talked about, Ronald," she finished.

Mr. Weasley looked at his watch. "We better get a move on." As he started ushering the group toward the platform, he winked at Harry.

Harry turned a questioning look toward Ron. Ron grinned. "Just means you're one of the family."

Harry felt a warm flush of pleasure spread through him. It seemed a rare privilege to get a dressing down from Mrs. Weasley.

"You needn't look so pleased with yourself," said Fred, catching Harry's expression and grinning back.

"Don't worry," said George, "The novelty wears off quickly."

Hermione said goodbye to her parents and promised to write often. Then side by side, she and Ginny headed for the barrier between platforms nine and ten. They were giggling with their heads together, not looking at the metal barrier as they headed straight toward it. But instead of crashing into it, they vanished.

Mr. Weasley and Mr. Granger shook hands, "I hope you don't hold what happened at Diagon ally against us. Not all wizards are like that."

"Please, I hope you will come over for tea, sometime," said Mrs. Weasley warmly.

"Yes," smiled Mrs. Granger, "We'd like that."

Mrs. Weasley's round face broke into her more usually cheerful expression. "It would be so nice to have some company. With all the kids gone at school, the house seems so empty."

While their parents were discussing the intricacies of getting to the Weasley's house with Mr. Granger, the twins shrugged, looked around to see that no one was paying any attention and walked nonchalantly toward the place where the girls had gone and in a blink of an eye disappeared after them.

"Oh, I almost forgot," said Mrs. Granger. She opened her handbag and took out a paper bag. "I think we'd better return these."

Mrs. Weasley looked in the bag and sighed. She looked around and seeing that the twins were gone, handed the bag to Ron. "You'd better give these to Fred and George," she said with a long-suffering sigh."

Ron peered into the sack. "It's the fake wands Fred and George gave Hermione's parents in Diagon Alley" Ron whispered to Harry when his mother had turned back to her conversation.

He withdrew a wand and secreted it up a sleeve, while he surreptitiously handed the other one to Harry.

Mr. Weasley bid the Grangers goodbye. "Well it's getting late. We'd better make sure they got on board. I look forward to seeing you soon,"

The Grangers shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley hurried after the others as Mr. Weasley helped Ron with his laden trolley. They were all old hands at getting onto the platform nine and three quarters. They moved casually toward the barrier.

"Now I know you think you can handle anything and I must admit you have proved yourself quite capable, but we worry. So I don't want you taking any chances this year," Mr. Weasley advised them.

Harry and Ron started forward looking casually around as if interested in the busy goings on of the station. They headed for the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Ron was slightly ahead of him and just as he disappeared, Harry felt someone grab his arm. Harry brought his trolley to an awkward stop and looked around but no one was paying attention to him. He was just taking the handles of the trolley to start forward again when he heard a high squeaky voice call his name.

"Harry Potter! Sir, over here!" it said again.

Harry looked down. There seemed to be two large eyes staring at him from the trash bin next to him. The high voice and large eyes could only belong to Dobby, the house elf. Dobby's mismatched assortment of clothing blended in amid the trash.

"Dobby!" Harry gasped, "What are you doing here?"

"I tried to see you at your home, sir, but powerful magic wouldn't let Dobby come near."

"They put a Confinement spell around the Dursley's house to keep me in. I didn't know it would also keep house-elves out."

"The great Harry Potter must be kept safe," nodded Dobby, dislodging a paper cup that had been perched on his head, revealing his large pointed ears.

"You're not going to try and keep me from going to Hogwarts are you?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Oh no," Dobby assured him, "Harry Potter will be safe at Hogwarts. The great Dumbledore will keep Harry Potter safe."

That was a change in attitude.

"Why are you trying to see me?" Harry said in a low murmur "You're not in trouble, are you?"

"Harry Potter, always so generous, always asking if he can help," cried Dobby. "I knew I could go to you for help!"

"Ssh…" said Harry looking nervously around to see if anyone was noticed the noise coming from the rubbish bin. "There's Muggles all around us."

"Harry Potter, great, good, Harry Potter. Always willing to help his friends, Poor disgraced Dobby doesn't deserve help, but he must ask."

"Ask what?" Harry hissed. He looked around but there seemed no where private to go.

"It's Winky, sir!" Dobby burst into noisy tears. "Please you must stop her!"

"Quiet. We can't talk here!" said Harry urgently.

People were beginning to notice a teenage boy having a conversation with a sobbing rubbish bin, but Dobby continued weeping noisily. Harry snatched a news paper from beside the trash bin and opened it. He grabbed Dobby covering him with the newspaper and tried to pretend he was reading it.

"Dobby, what about Winky?"

"Oh sir, Dobby is disparaged by other house elves, but Dobby doesn't mind. Dobby is used to being mistreated. Dobby would rather be free than belong to household again. It was very bad belonging to the Malfoys. Very bad. Bad. Bad Dobby."

The house elf threw himself onto the floor and began banging is head against the concrete. Harry grabbed the scruff of his maroon sweater and gave him a shake.

"Dobby stop! Please." Dobby gave himself a little shake.

"Sorry, sorry…even now that Dobby is free, sometimes it is hard to forget old family." Dobby reached up and fastened his hands around Harry's wrist. "That is why we must stop Winky."

"Stop Winky from what?" asked Harry.

"From pledging herself to a family that…" Dobby dissolved into tears and was unable to continue for a while.

"Why? I thought you both had a place at Hogwarts, now. Surely Dumbledore wouldn't turn her out?"

"Dobby's tears dried up. "Dumbledore would never do something like that; he is kind and understanding house elves. He is the greatest wizards there is!" Dobby said fiercely.

"Then why is Winky leaving?" Harry could see that people were now looking curiously at a boy talking to a newspaper. He gave them a 'is this any of your business?' look.

"Winky is feeling ashamed of her freedom. The other house elves think it is perversion to be free. Dobby is used to being shunned. Dobby doesn't mind being thought a freak, but Winky does mind, very much."

"The other house elves are giving you a hard time?" Harry surmised.

"Not really, Dobby works hard. He likes very much working hard for Dumbledore. Always I am proud to speak good of Hogwarts so the Hogwarts house elves pretend to forget that I am free. But Winky is missing her family. She is pining and drinking and…" Dobby lowered his voice to a whisper, "too depressed to work much."

Harry nodded, thinking of the awful state Winky had been in the last time he saw her. "I was hoping she would get over it." Harry felt a bit guilty that he had forgotten Winky's misery. He had been too wrapped up in his own at the time.

"So was I sir, but she wants to belong to a family so bad that she is willing to go to anyone." Tears welled up in Dobby's eyes.

I don't know," Harry said slowly. "if she is that miserable, maybe she should. I don't know much about house elves, but it can't be good to be…well, drunk all the time."

Tears spilled down Dobby's face and dripped off his chin. "I wish she could be happy being freedom. But I understand if only it wasn't _that_ family."

"What family?" asked Harry. Dobby was shaking all over.

"The only family that is willing to take her in," Dobby began to tremble so hard the newspaper rattled, "because they lost their house elf

"Who?" Harry hissed. The group of people staring curiously at Harry and his newspaper was starting to grow.

"Malfoy!" Dobby squeaked. Then he vanished with a pop. Harry stared at his empty newspaper.

Just then Ron and Mr. Weasley came rushing up. "Harry, what are you doing here?" Mr. Weasley asked running a hand over his thinning red hair and looking relieved.

"You were right behind me. What happened?" asked Ron.

Harry waved his hand at the people around him and whispered, "Dobby," and stuffed the newspaper back into the rubbish bin. Harry was wondering how they were going to get away inconspicuously when with a squeal and his of brakes, trains arrived at platforms nine and ten. There was a rush of people getting on and off the trains. As the crowd swirled around him, Ron grabbed his arm and yanked. Harry staggered and found himself on platform nine and three quarters. A moment later, Mr. Weasley appeared beside them pushing the trolley.

"I've got him, Molly," he called to his wife.

Mrs. Weasley turned and gave Harry a very stern look. Harry thought George had a point about the novelty wearing off. She gave Ron a glare for good measure.

"I didn't do anything, honestly, Mum," Ron protested.

"Well everyone else already has their stuff on board," broke in Mr. Weasley. "You had better get your stuff stowed away."

The twins reappeared and helped Harry get his stuff put away. Harry couldn't help noticing how easily Ron could reach the overhead compartment. They all came back out to say goodbye Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who smiled and gave Harry a hug and kiss with everyone else.

Then they were back in their compartment waving as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station. Harry leaned back in his seat for a moment, just listening to the sound of the train as it gathered speed and headed north. The clacking wheels sang in Harry's ears. "I'm going home."

"So Harry, what's up with Dobby?" asked Ron after he and Hermione were seated comfortably.

Hermione had let Crookshanks out and the cat was carefully stretching and rearranging its fur. It turned its back on the cat carrier with the most disdainful of looks.

"Dobby?" asked Hermione, the fire of revolution lighting her eyes.

Ron looked at her warily. He had always taken the status of house elves for granted and wasn't sure if he wanted to join a house elf revolution, especially as the elves in question seemed to find the notion abhorrent.

"He stopped me just as I was about to go onto the platform. He said he tried to talk to me before but he couldn't get through the confinement spell."

"I didn't know it would keep house elves out as well as you in," said Ron.

Harry shrugged. He was beginning to suspect that the confinement spell was a lot more complex than the Ministry of Magic had indicated. "Ask your Dad if that spell was the Ministry's idea of protective custody?"

"What did Dobby want?" asked Hermione impatiently.

"He was upset about Winky," he paused. Hermione wasn't likely to take the news very well. Not that he disagreed with her exactly but, Hermione had a way of rushing in where her principles were at stake even if it generally made things worse.

"He says she is desperate to belong to a household again. I think she is kind of looked down on by the Hogwarts house elves."

"She should be grateful to be free," declared Hermione loudly, "I'm sure she will realize how much better off she is being her own person… I mean elf. Elves have rights, too." Hermione was speaking as if she were giving a protest speech to a crowd. "We can't keep exploiting the down trodden!"

Harry wondered where she was quoting from.

"Have you been practicing giving speeches?" Ron asked.

"Well you were the one who kept saying she was better off at Hogwarts, slaving away with the others of her kind."

"I'm not sure they are giving her a hard time so much as Winky is not fitting in. Dobby seems to be accepted; he's loyal to Dumbledore and happy to work hard. But Winky…well you've seen how she was. If they can't understand wanting to be free, that's nothing to not understanding not wanting to work. I gather even Dobby has a hard time with that," said Harry.

"They should be trying to help her, she's miserable," Hermione protested.

"How?" asked Ron, "She's had some bad shocks. She's desperate for a little house elf normality."

"But that's not what has gotten Dobby so desperate," said Harry. "It's.."

Just then the door opened with a bang and there stood Malfoy flanked by his buddies. Crabbe and Goyle have always been big, enjoying their role as Malfoy's flunkies and muscle, but Ron wasn't the only one who had grown over the summer. Vincent and Gregory filled the corridor behind Draco. Their hulking forms looked like mobile brick walls. They watched Harry as his eyes traveled up toward their smirking grins. Their chins even showed the signs of an attempt at shaving in a few patches of stubble and nicks. In contrast, Malfoy was impeccably dressed as he looked at them in that condescending way that made Harry's blood boil.

"Oh, here you are. Potty, Weasel, and Stranger. I should have figured that you three would be hiding here. Just like you did last year. Hardly talked to anyone; most unsociable," Draco sneered.

"I certainly wouldn't want to talk to the likes of you," said Harry.

"Yes," Malfoy drawled, "I certainly wouldn't suffer the displeasure of you company but I thought it would be civilized to warn you."

"If it's to tell us that you smell, we already know," said Ron.

"Tut. Tut. You probably tried to buy some stink and couldn't afford it," Malfoy said disdainfully. Behind him Goyle and Crabbe clenched their fists and looked eager. "I just thought I'd better tell you if you continue to act as if the rules don't apply to you, you're going to get yourselves expelled."

Malfoy's air of affected civility grated on Harry like talons on a blackboard. "Since when did you care if I was expelled?"

"Oh, I care. Nothing would give me greater pleasure. You've been flaunting the rules for so long that you probably don't even know that people are starting to wonder about your trustworthiness. I heard Father; he's consulted at the Ministry you know, talking to the Minister of Magic. Cornelius Fudge drops by when he has something important to consider." Harry wanted to punch Malfoy in the nose just to stop his fake-casual off hand way of speaking. "It seems that he's starting to wonder if you might be unstable." Malfoy waggled his fingers at his head. "Of course, it is my duty to tell him about how you're always been of delicate health; having fits, telling wild stories, having fainting spells, brooding at the end of last term. It's common knowledge you've had the unforgivable curse used on you. I shouldn't have been a surprise if you went a bit soft in the head."

"You're the one who's soft in the head if you think Dumbledore thinks Harry is crazy," scoffed Ron.

"Well my father told the Minister that the facts should speak for themselves. You've been under a lot of stress and your behavior has become rather erratic, even dangerous."

"Dangerous? You'll never convince anyone Harry is dangerous."

"On the contrary, you will have a hard time proving that Potter is not a danger to himself and others."

"Danger? What are you talking about?" Hermione said indigently.

"Well he certainly has gone out of his way to put himself and his friends into dangerous situations," Malfory grinned maliciously. "The Minister was most sympathetic when he saw the marks of multiple curses you had put on me and my poor innocent friends as we were on our way back home to see our parents."

"You deserved what you got!" yelled Harry and this time it was Ron who put a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Don't waste your breath arguing with the idiot," he said contemptuously.

"I heard the Ministry had you locked up all summer. Wouldn't let you go anywhere without an escort."

"If I'm so dangerous, maybe you'd better run. You never know when I might pull out my wand."

Harry reached into his pocket and laughed when Crabbe and Goyle took a step back. Harry pulled out the fake wand and waved it. There was a flash and the want turned into a banana. He and Ron laughed hysterically at the startled expression on Draco's face.

"Go ahead and laugh, but maybe you should be locked up for your safety and others," he shouted.

Just then, Fred and George Weasley came up, followed by Alicia Spinnet.

"There you are, Harry. We've been looking for you." She turned and gave Malfoy and his cronies a cold stare. "I think Pansy Parkinson is looking for you," she told him.

To Harry's amazement, a flush crept over Malfoy's pale face and Malfoy sort of slunk off. Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other blankly, shrugged and trailed after Malfoy.

Fred and George took hold of Harry's arms and started dragging him up the aisle. "We're meeting up front. You're late," said Fred.

"We'll bring back what's left of him when we're done with him," called George over his shoulder.

Alicia led the way past the crowded noisy compartments until they reached one near the head of the train.

"Okay, I've got him," announced Alicia to Katy Bell and Angelina Johnson.

"I figured we getter have a private meeting and sort a few things out before the rumors start flying," Angelina said as Harry sat down with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"What rumors?" asked Harry. Katy, Fred, and George looked at him as if he had turned into a drooling idiot.

"About the Quidditch team, of course," George said in exasperation.

"We need a new team captain, now that Wood is gone," said Fred.

"Traditionally, it's the oldest member, but except for Harry here, we're all in our seventh year," said Alicia Spinnet.

"And we need someone to be Keeper. Tryouts are held second week, but we still need to have a team captain beforehand," Angelina explained.

"So who's going t to be captain?" asked Harry.

"Count me out," said Alicia, "I'm going to be taking the N.E.W.T.S this year. I've already had an argument with my parents about quitting the ream altogether."

Everyone looked at her in surprise.

"Quit the team!" exclaimed Fred, horrified.

"I persuaded my parents that I could handle it. But the N.E.W.T.S are important. I'm not good enough to go into Quidditch professionally, so I'll need top marks to get an apprenticeship with Englebert Humperdinck."

"Wow," said George and Fred whistled appreciatively. The others looked impressed.

"Who's Engelbert Humperdinck?" asked Harry.

The rest of Gryffinder team stared at him in astonishment.

"Sorry…" Harry felt embarrassed. "I don't get much news living with Muggles."

"Englebert Humperdinck is probably one of _the_ best experts in charms in the world," explained Fred.

"Don't get me wrong, Flitwick's good. _Really_ good, but mostly he's got a lot of patience for teaching. Humperdinck's got a world-wide reputation. He invented an improved memory charm that is used by most wizarding law enforcement agencies. Not to mention all the other stuff," said Angelina.

"And he's really rich," said George. "There's a rumor that Gringotts opened a branch just to handle his galleons."

"He doesn't take on many apprentices. If you're in the running, Alicia, I don't know, maybe your parents have a point," said Katy.

"Now don't you start," she scowled stubbornly. "I've spent all summer arguing with my parents. The only reason they didn't write to Madam Hooch and forbid me to play as that I promised that I'd ease off Quidditch if things got too tight. So I guess it would be a good idea to find someone to be a reserve Chaser on top of everything else."

"That's not such a bad idea for all of us,' said Angelina thoughtfully. "One year we lost because we didn't have a reserve Seeker."

Harry glanced away. He had been unconscious at the time and Gryffinder had suffered its worst defeat in three hundred years. Wood hadn't blamed him, exactly, but Harry still felt a twinge of guilt at how disappointed Oliver had been.

"But, I'm thinking it's a good idea for another reason. All of us but Harry are in our final year. Next year, the team will be made of completely inexperience players unless we start training some people now."

"I remember the first year we joined the team with five new players; we were creamed. Came in last place," said Katy nodding in agreement.

"Good. Now back to the question of who's going to be captain," said Angelina. "Want the job Katy?"

Katy's face shone with pride for a moment but she was silent and gradually a look of somber reflection took over. "Thanks for asking, but I'm not really cut out for Captain."

The others assured her that she was a superb Chaser."

"Thanks but that's it. I'm good at being a Chaser but nothing else. A captain really has to keep up with what's going on all over. When I start trying to watch the big picture, I lose it. I do best when I just concentrate on the Quaffle. Fred and George are far better at strategy than I am, even if they do mess around a lot."

Everyone turned to the Beaters, who looked at each other.

"Which one?" they asked in unison.

"Harry could sense some tension between them at this question.

"We always do everything," said George

"together," finished Fred.

"Why not both of you?" asked Harry, "We could have co-captains."

"That is if you stop messing around long enough," Angelina snickered.

The twins put their heads together in a hurried conference. At last they sat up and shook their heads.

"We're going to have to say 'no'," said George.

"Don't get us wrong, we really honored," said Fred.

"Dad would be so proud to have more Quidditch captains in the family," mused George.

"But following in our brother's footsteps has never really appealed to us."

"It would be great," added George thoughtfully.

"but it would get in the way of our careers – of messing around," Fred said with frank honesty.

"We also have job opportunities we'd like to pursue," concluded George, winking at Harry.

Angelina stared at them critically for a while but said nothing.

"Well Angelina, Why not you? Lead us on to glorious victory!" exhorted Fred.

Angelina shifted in her seat. "Thanks but I don't think I'll measure up to Wood. I'm not as driven. Oh sure, I want to win, but I'm not as fanatical about it. I mean," she glanced toward Harry, "I would never tell someone to 'get the snitch or die trying.'"

The others reassured her that she would make a fine captain, but she didn't see entirely convinced.

"This is what I mean. The team shouldn't be reassuring the captain. The captain should be encouraging you. Harry has more than proven that he has the guts to win. I think that it would be a good idea if Harry is captain."

"Harry? How would you feel about being Gryffinder team captain?"

Harry felt flooded with a sudden elation. It was only when George asked him if he was trying to catch a snitch in his mouth again, that Harry realized it was hanging open. But as Angelina went on talking, the nagging doubt that had been hiding in the back of Harry's brain every time he thought about Quidditch all summer came to the forefront.

"Actually, this may work out well along the lines I have been thinking. It may be better to have someone younger, so that next year there can be some continuity," the tall black haired girl continued thoughtfully. "Harry has a good reputation as an excellent flyer. He won't have to work so hard to prove himself as a captain. New players will be eager to practice their skills with him."

The elation burst like a bubble and Harry felt his stomach sink as if it were made of lead. It was a nice fantasy while it lasted, but he'd better put an end to it.

"What do you say, Harry?" asked Alicia.

"Do you realize," Harry said slowly, "that I haven't played Quidditch for almost a year and a half?"

For the third time the rest of the Gryffinder team stared at him in surprise.

"You mean you haven't been in an official game," said Angelina, "just playing around…" her voice trailed off as Harry shook his head.

"I mean that I have been on a broomstick for exactly nine minutes and thirty-six seconds in the past year and it wasn't to play Quidditch."

Silence filled the compartment.

"Why don't you and Angelina work together?" asked Fred, "That way Harry could get some training and experience."

"All you need is some good training sessions to brush up on your skills, Harry. You'll see," said George encouragingly.

"Then Harry would be ready to take over completely, next year," said Angelina.

"I don't know about a drive to win, but it takes real leadership to think about everyone else and to care about what happens after you graduate," said Harry truthfully.

Everyone was grinning, but not as broadly as Angelina and Harry as they shook hands.

They stayed in the compartment all morning planning strategy and thinking about prospective players from the second year and up. Then the plump witch with the cart came by and the meeting broke up. Harry remembered Ron and Hermione. He bought an armload of Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans and cauldron cakes. Excusing himself, he made his way down the train and back to his own compartment.

His arms were too full to open the door, so he kicked at it until Ron opened it.

"Thanks," said Harry dumped his load on an empty seat.

"Where have you been?" asked Ron, helping himself to a pumpkin pasty.

"Quidditch team meeting," explained Harry, "Sorry, I just got away."

"So?" Ron asked around a large bite, "What's up?"

"Well, I'm not really supposed to tell," began Harry. Ron looked hurt but before he could say anything, Harry went on. "So I'd rather you two didn't say anything to anyone else just yet."

They listened as Harry outlined the meeting.

"Wow! Harry –Quidditch captain?" exclaimed Hermione.

"I can't believe Fred and George turned it down!" said Ron.

"Alicia is a candidate for an apprenticeship with Humperdinck! I mean even if she doesn't get it, she must be very good just ot be considered for it – of course Hogwarts students usually have the advantage when applying for apprenticeships – best reputation and all that," Hermione rattled on.

For the next hour they, well mostly Ron, peppered Harry with questions. It became apparent that Ron was excited about the possibilities of positions opening up on the team. He kept asking Harry what he needed to do to get on.

"You know you can't do that!" said Hermione.

"Tryouts are second week," explained Harry, "and Madam Hooch is in charge, not me. Besides, I'm out of practice. I haven't played in well over a year. Besides, nothing is official yet."

"Then I have a week to figure out how to bribe you."

"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione, shocked.

"Just joking, Hermione," laughed Ron, "you should've seen your face."

Hermione blew out her breath in exasperation. Ron snorted. Hermione sniffed loudly. Still Harry could see that he was excited about the possibilities of trying out.

"Ever since I started school, the team has really been locked up. The only position open was Seeker. No one can complain about you becoming Seeker, even though you were only in your first year. Mind you, it's not as if I was any great shakes back then, but I've been playing a lot with Fed and George and even with Charlie when we visited him.- I've got to tell you about that.- I bet I've gotten a lot better," chatter Ron happily.

Pigwidgeon, catching Ron's mood, began to twitter excitedly, banging into the bars of his cage. Hedwig opened one eye and hooted irritably. Ron got up and fished an owl treat out of his pocket and pushed it through the bars.

"Shut up, "he told the owl.

"If you would just shut up about Quidditch for a minute," cut in Hermione, "I want to find out about Winky."

"Oh, right," said Harry suddenly coming down to earth. Seeing Harry's sober expression, Ron sat down and shut up.

"Dobby is just about frantic about Winky. She's having a hard time and she's desperate to belong to a family again. So desperate, in fact," Harry went on to forestall further comments from Hermione, "That she's willing to go the Malfoy's."

Hermione choked on whatever she was about to say.

"What?!"

"But she can't!"

The Malfoys have lost their house elf and seem to be the only family willing to consider taking her on," said Harry.

"Apparently it's not easy for a disgraced house elf to find a new position."

"They usually just pass it down from one generation to the next," said Ron.

"Hasn't Dobby told her what it was like at the Malfoy's?" asked Hermione.

Harry shrugged, "I guess it hasn't done much good."

"We've got to stop her." Hermione jumped to her feet and began pacing the confines of the narrow compartment.

For once even Ron didn't scoff at Hermione's fervor. House elves may seem to like being slaves but even Ron was outraged at the way the Malfoys had abused their former house elf.

"But how?"


	8. Chapter 8 Welcome, Wagers, and Worries

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter Eight Welcome, Wagers, and Worries

They went on discussing the house elves until it was time to change into their Hogwarts robes. As night descended however, they had no better idea than to find Winky and talk to her as soon as possible.

The night was unusually warm as they stepped out onto the platform at Hogsmeade. By the light of a half moon, Hagrid gathered the first years and led them toward the boats for their traditional journey over the lake. Harry remembered his trip over the ink black water. The turrets and towers reflected in the water with the stars as the boats smoothly skimmed by themselves to a tunnel entrance. Harry thought how small and young they looked as he watched the first years with nostalgia.  
The first years didn't look nostalgic. They followed Hagrid with varying degrees of trepidation.

"Come on, Harry," said Ron tugging on Harry's sleeve, "The carriages are waiting for us."

"Hang on," called Hermione, "I'll be right back."

She dashed back onto the train. Ron looked at Harry who shrugged. They waited while the rest of the school filed past them to enter the long row of horseless carriages waiting to take them up to the school. Ron looked around uneasily.

"If she doesn't hurry up, we'll end up walking to the school."

"Let's find an empty one and save it," suggested Harry looking at the rapidly diminishing crowd.

There was only one coach left probably because it had the appearance of being worse for wear. Scratches and dents marred its lacquer finish and the cushions were frayed.

The carriages in front were already filled with the chatter of students anticipating the welcoming feast. One by one they doors closed and on their own accord, the coaches started to trundle off toward the castle. Ron and Harry shifted impatiently from foot to foot looking alternately at the platform for Hermione's appearance and the line of carriages that one by one were moving for the castle. In moments, their coach was the only one left. Harry looked anxiously at the jouncing coaches. He was sure Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy would have something to say about being late. Come to think of it, he didn't fancy explaining to Professor McGonagall about being late either. He was just thinking that maybe they should go ahead when Hermione came dashing up. There were ink stains down the front of her robes.

"Sorry," she panted. "It took me a while to find my quill, ink, and parchment. I ended up having to dump out half my stuff before I found it. The top to the ink bottle must not have been stoppered tightly enough."

"Never mind that," interrupted Ron, "Let's get started. You can tell us what it's all about on the way."

The scrambled on board and with a jolt, the shabby coach set off. It became apparent at once why this one had been left for last. At least one of its springs must have broken so they were lurched violently from side to side as it moved.

It wasn't easy to carry on a conversation when you were being tossed about inside a moving box. They braced themselves against the sides of the coach as best they could.

"So what was all that about?" asked Ron.

"I wanted to leave a note for Dobby," Hermione explained.

"A note to Dobby? On the Hogarts Express? Wouldn't it be better to send an owl off the kitchens instead?"

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "We won't be able to do that until after the feast. This is faster. Don't you realize that our luggage gets taken up to our rooms by the thankless labor of house elves?"

Ron and Harry were spared the rest of Hermione's speech by a particularly brutal bump which caused her to bite her tongue.

"What did you write?" asked Harry.

"I told him not to worry we will figure something out and that we'd try to meet him tonight after the feast," replied Hermione thickly around her throbbing tongue.

"But we haven't figured anything out—Ouch!" yelped Harry and Ron together as the bouncing coach caused them to knock their heads painfully together.

The coach lumbered to a halt dumping them to the floor. They picked themselves up and emerged from the coach. The other students were already gathered around Professor McGonagall who was giving them instructions. She paused to glare disapprovingly at their belated arrival and disheveled appearance.

"Now if we are finally all here, let's proceed with the ceremony." She left to greet the new students.

The three of them made a hasty if largely futile attempt to improve their presentation and moved forward to enter the Great Hall. Malfoy flanked by Crabbe and Goyle moved to intercept them.

"Well, well," he sneered, "Look what the cat dragged in."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said shortly.

"Of course, Granger, even your cat looks like something the cat dragged in."

It wasn't as if Draco didn't have a point. Crookshank's bandy legs and squashed-faced appearance contrasted with its mottled orange fur.

"That cat is smarter than you are!" said Ron hotly.

"Oh?" said Malfoy, "Is that where Granger gets all her answers?"

Goyle and Crabbe let out a loud guffaw.

"Be careful, if Dumbledore finds out he might expel you and enroll the cat." Now more Slytherins stopped to laugh in appreciation of Malfoy's humor.

Harry knew he shouldn't respond to Malfoy's baiting but he heard his voice rising in anger anyway.

"Maybe you should hire Crookshanks to help tutor you. I understand you and your friends have come off worse for wear from some magical encounters lately."

"That sounds like something Dumbledore would do. He's always collecting bizarre faculty such as werewolves, insane Death Eaters, that monster-loving Hagrid, house elves no one else would have, not to mention mudbloods and degenerate freaks."

The contempt in Malfoy's voice was so strong that many students were turning to watch instead of filing into the Great Hall.

"Professor Dumbledore can recognize talent when he sees it unlike people who are so blinded by that pure-blood nonsense that they can't see excellence if it hit them on the nose."

Malfoy snarled contemptuously, "Dumbledore's losing it."

There was an angry mutter from the growing crowd of students.

"Oh, he may have been great once, but he's getting old. He passed his peak years ago. There's been one scandal after another these last few years. He should have retired and let someone more competent take over."

"Dumbledore's the greatest wizard alive!" shouted Harry, clenching his fists to keep from reaching for his wand. "You're jealous."

"Jealous?" Malfoy laughed but there was no humor in his voice. "Why would I be jealous? At least I work on my skills not my over-blown reputation."

"You take that back!" Ron yelled.

"Skills?" mocked Angelina, stepping forward. The tall chaser glared down at the Slytherin "What skills? Slytherin hasn't been doing too well. How many games have you won since you've taken over as Seeker?"

Malfoy looked up at the pretty seventh year and sneered. "The only reason Potter has done so well is that he's got a better broomstick. It's the Firebolt not Potter's skills that have been winning."

"What a load of dragon dung," snorted Angelina. "Potter's got more skills in his little finger than you do in your whole body."

"Oh yeah?" smirked Malfoy. "Are you willing to put your galleons where your mouth is?" He raised his voice so that it carried though the room. "I bet you one hundred galleons that if Potter didn't have his Firebolt, Gryffindor would lose."

"I'll take it!" yelled Ron, stepping forward.

And he was not alone. The rest of Gryffindor house team also stepped forward.

"Hold it," said Malfoy, "I'm not betting money if the Weasleys are involved. "They don't have that much and I don't trust them not to welch on the deal. No I want something else."

"Name it," said Angelina Flatly.

Malfoy paused, raising his voice so the crowded gathering could hear. "I bet that if Potter flies against Slytherin on a broom of my choosing, that Gryffindor will lose. If Gryffindor wins, we'll pay one hundred galleons, but if you lose," he paused and looked around, playing to his audience. "If you lose, then you will have to be our house elves for the week!"

Around them gasps filled the suddenly silent entrance hall.

Just then Professor McGonagall pushed her way through the knot of students, blocking the entrance way.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"Ah, just in time, professor," drawled Malfoy, "to witness acceptance of betting terms."

"You know betting's not approved," said McGonagall, glaring around.

"Probably just as well," said an oily voice. Snape entered the hall from the stairway that led to the dungeons. "Of course the best punishment might be to let you have your bet and make the Gryffindors pay up."

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean?" asked Professor McGonagall, frostily.

"Just that it would serve the Gryffindor Quidditch team right when they lose," said Snape with a malevolent smile.

"And what makes you think that Gryffindor will lose?" asked McGonagall, her cheeks going rather pink. "Don't you mean it will be the Slytherins who will have to pay up?"

"Ha," Snape sneered. "I can see were Gryffindor students get their arrogance. Well the Slytherin Quidditch team will know how to take you down a few pegs."

"Not very likely." Minerva and Severus glared at each other. "It's really too bad that betting is not permitted, but I doubt that Slytherin house has the guts for it anyway."

"Don't let school policy get in the way. Gryffindors are so accustomed to ignoring the rules that I think this would be a good opportunity to teach the value of discipline."

"It would at that," agreed McGonagall. Then she turned to the students. Students from every house stared back open-mouthed. "All right, I'll witness. What are the terms?"

Malfoy was the first to recover. "We bet one hundred galleons that Gryffindor can't win a Quidditch match against us if Potter flies a broom of my choice. Against that the Gryffindors will have to act as our house elves for a week!"

McGonagall narrowed her eyes. "No Muggle brooms now. It has to fly and no jinxes, curses, or hexes either. The broom must past Minimum Airworthiness Requirements."

"Of course, Professor, I wouldn't dream of giving Potter anything dangerous, just a **real** test of his skills." Malfoy agreed. "It will be one of the school brooms."

"And as you are supposed to learn the value of discipline, I cannot permit the losers to miss classes. You are to attend all classes. You can be house elves on your own time," Snape said.

Malfoy turned to Harry. "Well? Do you think you have what it takes?"

Harry looked at the Gryffinors around him. They nodded. Harry hesitated; it was one thing to take a bet for himself, it was another thing to get his friends into it.

"You're the captain," Angelina murmured looking at him directly. She returned his barely perceptible nod.

Malfoy's eyes widened with shock. _You're_ the captain? Ha!" Malfoy's face broke into a wide smile of delight. "Gryffindor must be really hard up if you're captain! Beating you will be as easy as taking candy from a baby."

"That's what you think," retorted Harry, "Wait until you're on the Quidditch pitch before you start boasting."

Squaring his shoulders, he stuck out his hand and shook Malfoy's grimly.

Snape held his wand over the clasped hands. He raised his eyebrows at the transfiguration teacher.

"A Griffindor's word is good, but if you insist," said McGonagall with the air that implied that it was the Slytherins' word that needed safe guarding.

She pulled her wand from her robes and together with Snape repeated the terms of the bet. Harry felt a mild tingling sensation as a glow surrounded their hands and then faded. Snape inclined his head and put his wand back into his robes.

Malfoy smirked, "I look forward to seeing how you hold up to Oliver Wood."

"Hurry up, now. Stop gawking." The transfiguration teacher turned to the assembled students, "The first years will be here any moment. Inside, all of you."

In a sort of stunned silence, the students filed in to find their places at their tables. Professor McGonagall went to address the first years and Snape walked down the length of the hall to take his place at the teacher's table at the front of the room.

They were still settling into their seats when, followed by McGonagall, a line of scared-looking first years followed her into the hall. Harry was struck by how small they looked, shifting pale-faced, nervously from foot to foot. The youngsters watched apprehensively as Professor McGonagall set the Hogwarts Sorting Hat on a four-legged stool before them.

It was a battered, patched wizard's hat but the assembled students gazed at it respectfully. Then a tear in the brim opened like a mouth and Harry leaned eagerly forward to listen. The hat made a noise as if clearing its throat and began to sing.

I am the Hogwart's Sorting Hat

The smartest of them all,

For I can tell where you should be

Within these hallowed halls

For about a thousand years

Since Hogwarts school was new

I've looked inside each student's head

And known what must be true.

Intrepid stands Gryffindor

Ready with bared sword

To defend what's good and right

And the helpless ward.

Count on stalwart Hufflepuffs

To hold aloft their shield

Against the vile Enemy

And to never yield.

Against foul malevolence

An arrow's loosed in flight

Ravenclaw's brains are brought to bear

With minds both keen and bright.

Don't disdain a dagger's small blade

When you can't let Darkness win

Subtle and versatile in the quick hands

Of determined Slytherin.

Although we have our different ways

With talents and words and deeds,

United we combat evil foes

And help each other in need.

Your house is like your family

Each one is unique

But all together we strive to grow

When learning and knowledge we seek.

So walk right up to the stool

Sit down and try me on.

Find your place in Hogwarts School

Student and eccentric don!

Harry clapped loudly with the other students and the hat bowed to each of the house tables and then grew still again. Professor McGonagall smiled in her austere way and unrolled a scroll of parchment. Holding it up, she began to read the names of the first year students, who one by one, came forward to pick up the Sorting Hat, sit on the stool and place the hat on their heads.

But Harry wasn't really watching. In his mind's eye he was reliving his own sorting ceremony of four years ago. He remembered waiting with increasing trepidation as in alphabetical order each students placed the battered hat on his or her head. After various intervals the venerable hat would shout out the names of one of the four Hogwarts houses. Harry remembered the panicky feeling he felt as the hat deliberated about what house to put him in. It had come close to putting him in Slytherin. How different things might have worked out if he had. He shuddered.

Professor McGonagall had explained that his house would be like his family. Harry reflected that in his case it was especially true. He was much more at home with the Gryffindors than he had ever been with the Dursleys.

"Hey Harry, wake up," said Ron, thumping him on his shoulder.

With a jerk, Harry brought himself back to the present in time to applaud the newest member of Gryffindor house. He clapped as a small girl named Tenobia Wells with a blond pony tail took her seat.

Dumbledore was rising to his feet as the students settled back into an expectant silence. He cleared his throat and announced, "I have only one word to say to you: eat!"

The golden platters were filled with mouth-watering selection of food. Harry filled his plate with roast beef, corn, stewed tomatoes in basil sauce, fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a spinach knish. For a while everyone was too busy taking Dumbledore's advice to say much. The food was delicious. Harry wondered if it was better than he remembered or if a summer of Aunt Petunia's cooking made it seem so.

The room filled with noisy chatter as people who hadn't seen each other for months began to catch up with each other.

"Hi Hermione. Hi Ron!" called Dean Thomas

"Great food, isn't it?" said Neville accidentally spilling some buttered peas down his front. "Oh, hi Harry. How are you doing?"

"Fine," answered Harry. "How was your summer?"

"Not bad," he answered looking at him sideways.

Harry couldn't help noticing that people seemed a bit hesitant to talk to him. There was a crowd of well-wishers around Fred and George and now that edge of their appetites was worn off, people were starting to get up to exchange greetings with friends from other houses.

He waved to Ernie McMillan, who paused for a moment and waved back.

Harry sighed. "Don't tell me everyone swallowed all that garbage Rita Skeeter wrote last year?" He looked at Hermione. "She hasn't written anything new has she?" he asked her.

"No," said Hermione lowering her voice, "She's kept her promise. But some people did listen to what she wrote and well, last year when Dumbledore asked everyone to leave you alone…"

"Don't worry," said Ron around a mouthful of mashed potatoes, "It'll be fine. Once everyone sees you're okay, they'll relax."

Ron was probably right, he told himself. Give everyone a week and then they would forget. He looked toward the Ravenclaw table, hoping to catch Cho Chang's eye. Padma Patil avoided his eye. Cho was talking quietly with her friends and didn't look up. Probably just as well, he didn't think he had the courage to see the mistrust in her eyes.

Suddenly it felt as if his left elbow had been dunked in icy water. Harry turned to see Nearly-headless –Nick hovering by his side.

"Hello Nicholas," Harry greeted the Gryffindor ghost.

"Greetings, Harry Potter," the ghost responded gloomily.

"What's wrong" asked Harry. Nearly Headless Nick was not the most cheerful of characters. Ghosts had a tendency to be a bit gloomy. Having you head inexpertly hacked at can do that to a person, but generally he was good-natured enough, especially at the welcoming feast. So Harry was caught by his extremely irritated expression.

"Oh, nothing," he said airily, but if anything his expression looked more sour than ever.

"It's not the headless hunt again, is it?" asked Harry

"Oh no," Nick waved his hand dismissively. "Podmore has moved off – for a grand world tour he says but I think it has more to do with getting his head stuck in an enchanted gopher hole. Serves him right for showing off during head-polo."

"I didn't think a ghost's head could get stuck in anything," goggled Ron.

"It wasn't an ordinary gopher hole. It was enchanted, as I've said."

"I'd like to see that," said George.

"Wow, do you think you could show it to us?" Fred's voice bubbled with excitement.

"Perhaps, later," agreed Nicholas, "If it is still there."

"What's the trouble then?" asked Ron with a mouthful of Yorkshire pudding.

"It's the Bloody Baron," sighed Nick in an off-hand way. "He just said the most ridiculous thing to me. Really, he can be most insufferable at times."

"Well, Slytherins have a way of getting under your skin even dead," sighed George. "What did he say?"

"Silly really. He said I was going to be the ghost of the house of house elves and then went on about some bet. I told him not to be ridiculous, that you would never do something so foolish."

Harry was saved from answering by someone calling him from the Hufflepuff table.

"Hey, Harry!" Harry turned to see Justin Finch-Fletchly waving at him. "If you're done with the gravy, could you pass it here?"

Harry stood with the gravy bowl in his hands leaving the others to break the news to Nick. Would Justin be afraid he was going mad too? He carried the bowl over to their table and handed it to the boy with a tentative smile.

Justin looked him directly in the eye and winked. "I thought you were the heir of Slytherin once and I was wrong. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. We just wanted to wish you good luck."

Next to him the other Hufflepuffs joined Justin in wishing Harry and the Gryffindors success. Harry's smile grew firmer, if anyone was going to give him a hard time it would have been the Hufflepuffs. Harry hadn't been too sure how they would feel about him. After all last year, he and Diggory had been rivals and then Cederic had been caught in Voldemort's plot to kill him and had been murdered.

"Serving the gravy?" came a sneering voice behind him. "Better get used to acting like a servant."

Harry didn't need to turn around to know that it was Draco Malfoy. He and his companions laughed. Harry felt an angry flush creep over his face.

"You wish!"

Behind him he could hear the Hufflepuffs stirring as if trying to decide if they should join Harry or not. Harry decided that it wouldn't do to get them all detentions by starting a brawl with the headmaster and the rest of the staff present. Harry glanced toward the staff table for a moment and found himself looking into the penetrating stare of Professor Dumbledore. Although it only lasted a second, Harry was strongly reminded of the letter the headmaster had sent him about self-control.

"I think you can use all the practice you can get," Malfoy went on and his companions laughed again.

"And you need all the practice you can get for the Quidditch pitch," said Harry, turning his back disdainfully on the Slytherins and walking back to his table.

"I just thought you should know, you should always serve from the left side," called Malfoy again and Harry sat down trying to ignore the laughter.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" asked a small voice across the table from him. Harry looked up to see a girl with the blond ponytail looking at him.

Harry was used to the stares the first year students often gave him and nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

Harry anticipated the usual questions about his scar and Voldemort but instead the girl asked, "What was he talking about, being a servant?"

Of course the first years wouldn't have heard about the bet yet.

Harry was saved from answering by the other members of Gryffindor who began to explain the bet.

"You mean our Seeker is going to play on some crummy old broom that can hardly fly?" she asked. "That means that in effect the team is going to be playing without a Seeker. You must have a really experienced captain and the other players must be _really_ good."

"Well actually," admitted Angelina we have a new captain this year and we're not even sure who all our players are yet."

"I suppose it is too late to switch to another house?" Tenobia asked.

The rest of the Gryffindor team sat in silence as the stupidity of what they had gotten themselves into sank in.

It was almost a relief when the last of the crumbs melted off their plates and Dumbledore rose again to address them.

"Welcome, welcome," he said beaming down at them all from his place in the center of the staff table. "It is so good to have these halls filled again with the bustle of bright and eager students. I have a few notices to give out. First of all, I wish to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Alistor Moody, who has graciously agreed to return to teach this year. His long experience as an auror will doubtless be a unique opportunity for you all."

Harry noted that Albus Dumbledore made no mention of the imposter Moody who was had taught the class last year. A slight murmuring like a whisper of wind went through the hall.

"New students and some of the old students need to be reminded to steer clear of the forbidden forest and the Whomping Willow. Third year students and older who have signed permission may visit Hogsmeade _only_ on designated weekends. Mr. Filch has placed magical mats at the doors. Each student must stand on the mat for no less than ten seconds before entering from the grounds so as not to track mud into the castle. Banging Boomerangs, Ichabod's Itching Powder, and cat repellant have been added to the list of forbidden items. Check the chart on the door to Mr. Filch's office for the other three thousand four hundred seventy six items on the complete list."

He paused, and his face took on an uncustomary serious look. "Besides the usual notices, I have a few comments to make about the coming year. Those of you who are new will soon hear about the Triwizard tournament and the tragic death of one of our champions."

Harry sat straight, his eyes fixed on Dumbledore, ignoring the heads that turned his way.

The traumatic events of last year have affected us all. I have never hoped I might be more wrong, but I fear there will be difficult times ahead. It is therefore more important than ever that you apply yourselves to your studies in an effort to learn the knowledge and skills that may keep us through the dark time ahead.

But of even more importance, is the need to remember what we are fighting for. It is so easy, when combating dark forces to take the easy way out and resort to the same corrupt methods that Voldemort and the Death Eaters use."

A renewed murmur passed like an ocean wave through the hall. Harry tried to ignore the startled looks around him. He and Dumbledore were one of the few people who routinely used the Dark Lord's name aloud.

"Then we would be no better than they," Dumbledore continued, ignoring their reaction. "It is vital that we never lose sight that we are trying to preserve what is decent and right and good in the world. It is that, that gives us a strength that Voldemoert and his kind can never understand."

The headmaster paused to look around the hall. An indefinable aura of power seemed to light his features. Harry had the impression that Dumbldore's penetrating blue stare had somehow reached each and every student in the room. Then the gaze bore deeply into his own eyes for an instant and passed on.

"The key to fighting the forces of darkness, is to work together. By ourselves, we are weak and can easily be overcome, but when we open our hearts to each other and unite, then we are invincible.

Voldemort and his followers know this and they have ever tried to divide us. They have spread terror and make us afraid to trust one another. They have murdered and broken families apart so that we have felt alone and helpless.

That is why I have instituted some changes in the curriculum this year. Besides your usual lessons, I have asked the staff to emphasize trust and unity. We must learn to be comrades and companions whatever our differences. As our friendship grows, so will the Dark Lord be beaten back."

The teachers behind him shifted in their chairs. Moody glared around him. Trust had never had any part in his philosophy except the caveat "Don't trust anyone". It was the first time Harry had ever seen the Dark Arts professor and the Potions master look like they agreed with each other. Snape looked ready to chew nails.

"Now let's join our voices together and sing our school song." Dumbledore raise his hand and a ribbon flew out to reveal the words to the school song. Everyone obediently sang along. If this was to be an example of solidarity, Dumbledore couldn't have picked a worse inspiration. Everyone sang in their own melody, meter and key. The results were less than harmonious. When the last off-key note died away, Dumbledore clapped his hands and beamed at them.

Professor Dumbledore paused and his aura of power seemed to drain away and he once again looked like an old man. "But it is getting late and we all have lots to do tomorrow. Off to bed, now all of you."

The murmur of voices swelled and with a scraping of many benches and feet, they headed for the doors. Yawning, the sea of black-robed students filed through the entrance hall and made their way toward their respective houses. Dumbledore's speech seemed to bring to the forefront yet another pressing problem. He could tell from the whispers about You-Know-Who and the surreptitious looks shot his way, that the whole school was considering disturbing possibilities.

The thoughts in Harry's head buzzed darkly, flitting from worries about Voldemort and the dark forces to the dread of confronting Slytherin mounted on the sorriest of school brooms. He rubbed his eyes wearily. Maybe things wouldn't look so grim in the morning after a night's sleep.

The only one who didn't seem upset at the lack of happy chatter was Peeves. Peeves the Poltergeist was grinning broadly at their consternation. He loved chaos. Peeves grinned and turned a mid-air somersault. Everyone was avoiding the cleared space beneath the gaudily dressed spirit. Hermione clucked her tongue in impatiently, waiting for the crowed of students to edge their way past the bottle neck.

"Come on," she said impatiently and tugging on Harry's sleeve, strode across the open area directly under Peeves. Harry followed, just wanting to get to bed as soon as possible.

Suddenly, his feet flew out from under him and he landed with an abrupt crash flat on his back. He looked up to see Peeves laughing hysterically, six feet above him.

"Welcome back, Potter," he chortled. Harry angrily tried to scramble to his feet but his hands and knees slipped on a puddle of oil and he sprawled awkwardly on the floor. Besides him he heard Ron swear and Hermione threatened Peeves with a congealing curse.

"Naughty, naughty, Watch your language," snickered the poltergeist.

They tried to get up again, but their hands and knees slid frictionless on the stone floor. Around them, the rest of the students roared with laughter.

Fred and George reached down and pulled Ron and Hermione who were nearest to their feet.

"Didn't you hear Professor McGonagall warn us that Peeves had poured Super-Slick on the floor?" Fred asked.

"No," answered Hermione crossly, "We were late."

"Really smooth, Potter," laughed Malfoy, "If this is how you play I have nothing to worry about." The crowd laughed as Harry made another futile attempt to rise. Even Fred and George couldn't suppress a laugh.

George reached down to give Harry a hand but the soles of Ron's shoes were still slippery. His feet slid and he clutched his brother for support.

"Oh for Heaven's sake!" cried Ginny, coming forward. She reached down and pulled Harry to his feet.

"Take off your shoes," advised Hermione holding herself up on Fred as she removed her greasy shoes.

As Harry followed her advice, he was acutely aware of the spectacle there three of them made. He saw Cho cover her mouth to hide her giggles and felt a flush of embarrassment creep over his face.

Well that was one way to make a good first impression as captain, Harry thought bitterly to himself.

"Be sure he grants you a kiss, Ginny, for rescuing 'a maiden in distress,'" Malfoy called after them. Harry wondered if his face was as red as the flush that suffused Ginny's face.

He picked up his shoes and trying to ignore the mirth around him, he headed for Gryffindor common room. He just wanted to get into bed and call it a day as soon as possible. Tomorrow would be a fresh start and seeing as how this day had gone, the sooner the better.

Harry and Ron said goodnight to Hermione and climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory. He pushed open the door labeled 'Fifth Years' and headed for his bead, eager to leave his troubles behind him, at least for a little while. The only problem was that some of his problems were sitting on his mattress waiting for him.


	9. Chapter 9 Bednobs and Broomsticks

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 9 Bednobs and Broomsticks

Harry's mind was in turmoil after embarrassing himself in front of the whole school after first having publicly committed himself and his fellow Gryffindors to a week's enslavement to a vindictive adversary, not to mention worry about Voldemort's next attempt to subjugate the world. It is perhaps understandable that Harry had forgotten his promise to Dobby.

The diminutive figure leapt up, ears quivering eagerly, "Mr. Potter, Sir! Thank you! Thank you!" Its huge eyes were brimming with tears.

Harry tried to hide his dismay. It wasn't as if he didn't want to see a little elf; just that he hoped to have some sort of solution to the Winky problem first.

Dobby grabbed Harry's forefinger in both hands and pumped it up and down. "I knew the Great Harry Potter would help poor unworthy Dobby!" he cried joyfully.

Harry smiled weakly. "Where's Winky now? She hasn't already, uh gone to the Malfoys, has she?"

"Oh no, I told her that Harry Potter would help and she agreed to wait." The elf looked up with shiny eyes.

"Did you tell her how bad it was working for the Malfoys ?" asked Harry.

"Of course, but Winky does not listen. She keeps insisting that the Malfoys could not be that bad if Mr. Crouch liked them."

"That's all the more reason to avoid them, as far as I'm concerned," said Harry.

"Dobby knows that but Winky, insists that Dobby is mistaken and that Dobby is very bad elf to speak bad of family. I tell her they is not Dobby's family, but she is not listening."

"Is there anything you can do to stop her?" asked Harry.

"No, once she performs the ritual, there is nothing I can do."

"But she hasn't done that yet?"

"No, she agreed to wait to hear what Harry Potter would say," said Dobby eagerly.

"We need to get Hermione," said Ron, "It's not as if I trust her to be sensible about house elves, but she's most likely to think of something."

"Yeah, we need to meet somewhere," Harry agreed, "The common room is too crowded just now," Harry thought ruefully. He was keen to stay away from just about everyone at the moment.

"Maybe Ginny is still up. I'll go ask her to get Hermione," Ron sighed and left, just as Neville was coming in.

Harry motioned Dobby to keep quiet but the elf had concealed himself behind his pillow and for once looked like he would cooperate. Harry pulled the curtains on his four poster bed closed hiding them from view. Dobby had a way of vanishing whenever anyone else came in. Harry wasn't sure if it was some sort of house elf rule or professional pride to keep themselves as unobtrusive as possible.

"Uh, Harry?" asked Neville.

Harry didn't answer. Maybe Neville would just go to bed. Harry thought briefly of letting the rest of the fifth year boys in on the problem. Perhaps with more heads working on the problem they would think of something. Then he remembered the way they had all looked at him as if he were a UXB and decided that revealing that he was involved in yet another problem wouldn't endear him to them.

"Harry?" Longbottom repeated, "I just wanted to say that – well, don't feel bad about falling into the Super-Slick that Peeves spilled. Really it's okay. Don't worry about people thinking you're an idiot because you did something embarrassing. I do that all the time."

"Uh thanks, Neville," said Harry feeling that he had to say something.

Neville stood shifting from foot to foot for a bit and then the other boys came in. They were laughing and talking. Harry was sure they were laughing and talking about him but they didn't talk to him. He could hear them getting ready for bed talking in muffled tones so that he couldn't make out the words.

Eventually, Ron came back. He pushed his head into the curtain and delivered a message from Hermione. "Ginny said to meet them in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. As soon as possible."

Harry knew he couldn't get out his invisibility cloak until the others had gone to sleep. He told Ron to wait for him in the common room. He told Dobby the plan. Dobby grinned, pumped Harry's arm again and vanished with a pop.

It seemed to take forever for everyone else to go to sleep. Harry was almost drifting off himself, when Ron shook him. He didn't speak but Harry understood. He got out the invisibility cloak and tiptoed down the stairs after Ron. Ginny and Hermione were waiting for them impatiently.

They left through the portrait hole under the disapproving frown of the pink lady. They had occasion to use the invisibility cloak to cover themselves before and even a small dragon but when used to cover four people, the going became extremely awkward. Finally, Ginny volunteered to go ahead and peer around each corner to see if it was safe because bits of them kept reappearing as they all tried to tug on the cloak and make it fit them all.

How they made it to the bathroom without anyone finding them, Harry never knew between the whispering and tripping over each others' feet but eventually they were all assembled in the bathroom. Dobby was waiting for them hopping from foot to foot. Moaning Myrtle made one of her appearances.

"Oh look, now more people have come to disturb my solitude," she accused.

"I'm sorry, Myrtle, we didn't mean to bother you," said Hermione apologetically.

"A likely story. First its house elves, now it's a whole crowed of people. Have you started selling ticket?" she asked testily.

"Oh no, of course not. We just came because…" Hermione looked around at the others for inspiration, "Uh we thought your wisdom might help."

"Oh that's it. Only come to visit when you want something." But the morose ghost seemed flattered. "Well what is the problem?"

They explained the situation. She took off her glasses and cleaned them, although Harry couldn't think of what good it would do.

"It's useless to keep a house elf from joining a human family. It's their nature. Anything else would make them unhappy. And believe me, I know about unhappiness. If you had been a ghost in a toilet for over fifty years you would too. I sometimes wish I didn't have a permanent commitment to haunt a toilet. It would be so nice to leave for a bit sometimes, but then again I'm not one who gives up after a decade or two, not like some I could mention."

Harry was trying to ignore Moaning Myrtle's rambling complaints.

Hermione seemed interested. "Myrtle, are you saying it is possible to have a temporary arrangement?"

"It all depends on what you're willing to commit to," she said lifting her head. "When I became a ghost, I knew I would suffer to the end of time."

"I never thought being a ghost was sort of a magical contract. I thought you had no choice about…uh how long…" Hermione trailed off.

"It is very complicated and mysterious," Moaning Myrtle said earnestly, enjoying the attention, "but some less-committed souls choose a contract with an escape clause, so to speak." She sniffed disdainfully at those not eager to suffer endlessly but Hermione was tapping her lips thoughtfully.

"Myrtle, are you saying that it is possible to have a temporary contract?"

"You really aren't too smart, are you?" the ghost observed from her place on the back of her tank. "Of course that's what I'm saying. Certain low-life ghosts just don't have the stomach for it."

"Is this true for house elves as well?" Hermione asked.

"Oh I suppose so, but only the dead can truly understand what is meant by forever," she moaned dramatically.

"Dobby," said Hermione, "Is it possible for Winky to take a temporary contract?"

"Hermione, are your nuts? We've got to stop Winky from going there at all," said Ron.

"I do not think that it possible," said Dobby sadly. "Winky is determined to go."

"Yes," nodded Hermione, "Once Winky sees how bad the Malfoys are, she'll be happy to leave them and become a free elf."

They discussed the matter for sometime but eventually, Dobby agreed to talk to Winky and see if they could convince her to take a temporary contract.

"Do you think the Malfoys will agree to it?" Harry asked.

"Of course," squeaked Dobby, "Malfoy was very angry when Dobby was freed, sir. He is concerned that other wizards think he was losing influence and money. I think he will agree to a temporary house elf if it is to be kept secret that it is temporary."

"Well we will have to be very careful about the binding spell so that she will be released when the time is up. I suppose there must be something about it in the library," she said almost to herself.

Eventually it was agreed that Dobby would convince Winky to accept a temporary contract and that Hermione and the others would work on writing it.

Harry considered it a minor miracle in itself that they managed to return to Gryffindor without further incident, especially when Dobby kept popping up to thank them again. Harry almost had to resort to threatening him to make the house elf leave them alone when they got to the portrait so they could enter.

Dobby vanished and Harry let out his breath in a whoosh. He and Ron said goodnight to Hermione and stumbled up to bed. Harry felt so tired that he kicked off his shoes and flopped on the bed without bothering to unpack his pajamas.

.

.

The morning started bright and clear. Ron was urging him to hurry up. Around him Dean and Seamus were climbing into their clothes. Seamus called a cheerful good morning.

"C'mon Harry," said Neville coming up to him, "breakfast will be ready."

Harry pulled his shirt over his head. They were all looking at him oddly.

"What's up?" asked Harry looking from one to the other.

"Nothing, really," said Dean. "It's just that – well, we had a bit of a chat and well…Ginny knows some wicked hexes…and Neville said…"

"What we mean," Seamus took over, "is that we're sorry we were treating you so…well, all those things in the paper and the rumors and such. We didn't know what to think. Anyway we're sorry we were treating you like a blast-ended skrewt that might attack any minute," he shuffled his feet, embarrassed.

"I should have known better than to listen to any of that slobber Slytherins say and we know that some of the stuff Rita Skeeter printed about you was totally bogus," said Dean.

"Can we just forget it?" Harry asked.

"Friends?" asked Neville, extending his hand.

"Yeah," agreed Harry clasping the hands held out to him, "us Gryffindors have to stick together." Suddenly he felt much better. It wasn't as if he had fewer problems to deal with but they didn't seem to weigh as much as they had a moment ago.

"We really are sorry,' said Neville.

"Just forget it," said Harry.

.

.

When they got to the Great Hall they found something that really did make Harry forget completely about it. Posted on the doors to the Great hall was a note.

Due to the revised Quidditch schedule

Tryouts will be held on Friday. Interested

Parties should see Madam Hooch by the

End of the day.

All around them students broke into a babble of excited chatter.

"Harry, do you know what's going on?" asked Ron.

"No idea. Tryouts are always held second week of term. I wonder what they mean about a revised schedule? I'd better find Madam Hooch," said Harry.

"Me too," said Ron. "I want to sign up for tryouts. Are you going to try out?"

Seamus snorted, "Are you kidding? I've no particular wish to spend a week being Slytherin house elves."

"Well, I thought about it," admitted Dean, "but for one thing, I'm from a Muggle family and I haven't been able to practice all summer."

"Don't worry about that," said Ron encouragingly, "Harry lives with the biggest bunch of Muggles you ever heard of. He hasn't been on a broomstick since the end of the third year, not counting the Triwizard Tournament, and he's acting captain."

Harry wished Ron hadn't brought that up.

"That's another thing," said Dean, "I've no particular desire to be on a team that's going to get totally drubbed in front of the whole school."

Harry could feel some of his new-found camaraderie evaporate.

"Come on, it's not that bad," said Harry, "We've got a lot of really good experienced players."

"No offense, Harry, but it's going to be different now that Wood's gone," said Seamus shaking his head.

Breakfast was a noisy affair. Since September first had been a Friday, the school term started with a weekend. Everyone was glad to be able to relax and settle in and the Great hall was filled with loud discussions of Quidditch, teachers, the Gryffindor-Slytherin bet, and just generally catching up with old friends.

Harry looked around for Fred and George. If anyone had information about the revised Quidditch schedule, it would be them. Harry spotted them talking earnestly with some new students at the Ravenclaw table. They had notebooks and were busily scribbling away.

Harry tapped Ron's shoulder to get his attention. "What are your brothers doing? They're not taking bets are they?"

Ron looked around where Harry pointed and frowned uncertainly but it was Ginny who answered.

"They are doing research for their chocolate hogs," she said, "They asked McGonagall for a school roster but she said she wasn't going to aid and abet one of their schemes."

Then there was a break in the conversation as a flurry of owls arrived, bringing messages and parcels of forgotten items from home. Hedwig landed on Harry's plate. She helped herself to a bit of sausage while Harry detached a note. It turned out to be from Madam Hooch telling him to meet with the rest of the team captains after breakfast.

.

.

Madam Hooch's office was adjacent to the locker rooms. When he got there he found a tall girl with light brown hair tied tightly back into a pony tail nervously pacing in front of the closed door.

When Harry approached, she thrust out her hand and said stiffly, "Hi, I'm Cassiopia Calloway, the new Hufflepuff captain." Harry took her hand and shook it awkwardly. He didn't see the point of introducing himself. Everyone knew who he was.

"So, they picked you for captain?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "For now." He didn't feel like going into how he was switching off with Angelina. He could understand if the Hufflepuffs felt a bit resentful. Cederic Diggory had been their captain. He had also been the only opposing Seeker to beat Harry to the Snitch.

"Well good luck," she responded politely.

"Thank you. You, too," Harry nodded toward the locked door, "Do you know what Madam Hooch wants to talk to us about?"

"No, but since you and I are here, I guess she wants to talk to the captains."

Harry nodded, "I guess we'll find out about the Quidditch schedule and stuff." After a long pause where they stood staring at nothing in particular for a while, Harry asked, "Do you know who the captains on the other teams are, Cassy?"

"I guess we'll find out soon,"

They did. A few minutes later they were joined by someone who made Harry's mouth go dry. Cho Chang walked up and greeted Cassy.

"Hi," said Harry.

She spared him a brief glance and gave him a quick smile.

"Congratulation," Cho said to Cassy. "I think they made a good choice."

"Hi," said Harry again but they didn't seem to hear him.

"Thanks. You'll be hard to beat," Cass said warmly.

"Hi," repeated Harry.

"Do you know who is going to be the Slytherin captain?" Cho asked.

"Warrington, I guess," the Hufflepuff Chaser said.

"Hi," said Harry feeling foolish.

Cho finally turned to him, "Congratulations," she said.

"Uh, thanks," said Harry, "You too. You're a great player."

Silently Harry berated himself. He sounded so stupid. Desperately he tried to think of something clever to say but his mind had gone totally blank. They shifted in the awkward silence only for a moment when they saw a pair of figures approaching. It was Warrington and Malfoy. They all glared at one another for a moment.

"Only captains are supposed to come," said Cassy flatly.

"Which one of you is captain?" asked Cho unsmiling.

"I am," chorused Malfoy and Warrington together. They glared at each other.

"I am,' drawled Malfoy again.

"Only if we win," said Warrington. "If we lose, then I'm captain again."

"Don't worry; we'll win," Malfoy grinned evilly at Harry, "and I know you won't let us down, Warrington. Not just because you want to win, but because you don't want to lose one hundred galleons."

Warrington growled at Malfoy, "I have seniority and I'm a better player than you. I should be captain. You just got in because your family's so rich and you use sneaky bargains to win."

"Well, that's the captain's job," said Malfoy, "To make sure that we win. That's why the others chose me over you. They knew I would make a sure that we will win," Malfoy oozed confidence. Warrington looked around as if suddenly noticing the others.

"What are you looking at, you little mudblood?" he snarled.

The others tensed at Warrington's use of such a foul term. Harry shrugged. Having grown up with Muggles, the word just didn't carry the same weight with him. He always had trouble remembering not to say Voldemort's name around others.

"I'm not ashamed of who my parents were. At least they had the courage to face Voldemort instead of groveling to him and then pretending they never had."

If the others were disconcerted by Warrington's language, that was nothing to how they felt about Harry's casual use of Voldemort's name. Not to mention the accusation. But Harry had seen Malfoy's father obey Voldemort's summons and knew his barb hit home. The others gaped at Harry but Malfoy recovered quickly.

"The only reason that Gryffindor made you captain is because they needed a scape goat when we win."

It was probably a good thing that Madam Hooch chose that moment to appear. She looked around at them sternly. "Good; you are all here," and pointed her wand at the office door.

The latch released with a click and the followed her inside. The walls were covered with plaques and certificates, most of which had little Snitches, Quaffles, and Bludgers on them and were hanging at odd angles. As Harry watched, one of the Bludgers flew toward the frame and knocked it so that it hung at a different angle. There were also a lot of pennants from teams which Harry recognized from the book "Quidditch through the Ages".

There was a book shelf filled with books on Quidditch and other sports of the wizarding world. The corners of the room were filled with stacks of crates from which overflowed various pieces of sports equipment. She plucked a half-collapsed Quaffle off her chair and tossed it into a box labeled 'to be repaired' and sat down. She gestured for them to find seats. Harry moved a stack of broomsticks and leaned against a filing cabinet as there didn't seem to be enough seats.

Madam Hooch glared around her fiercely looking more like a hawk than ever. "I won't deny that I'm not too pleased with recent events. I'm for team spirit as much as the next person, but the school always has had a strict policy against betting and I don't see why a special exception should be made now."

She singled Harry, Malfoy, and Warrington out for a special glare that made Harry think he knew what a mouse felt like when Hedwig spotted it.

"But if it has to be done, the headmaster has decided that it is best to get it over with quickly. That is why we have modified the Quidditch schedule. We have bumped up tryouts to this coming Friday. I know, I usually like to give everyone a chance to settle in first week but you are going to need all the time you have to get ready. Well at least Slytherin and Gryffindor will; you have the first game two weeks after tryouts."

"Two weeks!" Harry gasped. "That's not enough time to train."

Even Malfoy looked stunned. "You two must be kidding, Professor."

"No, I'm not," she snapped. "You two have chosen to make a mockery of the great sport of Quidditch with this ridiculous bet. If it was up to me, I would have both of you thrown off your teams and call that an end to it. But professor Dumbledore thought it wiser to carry through with it. He does concur that it would be best not to drag it out any longer than necessary."

Harry opened his mouth to say something but nothing fell out.

Madam Hooch then handed them each a piece of parchment. It has the schedule of games. "There will be a gap between the first and second games, but that can't be helped."

Harry noticed that the Slytherin parchment has something written on the back. He flipped his own parchment over and noticed a practice schedule on the back.

Madam Hooch saw what he was looking at and explained. "Professors McGonagall and Snape thought it would be fair to make sure each team got equal time to use the field for practice, starting with Gryffindor right after lunch. Slytherins can have the field this evening."

Harry looked over the schedule. It seemed to be divided evenly with both teams getting a share of each time of day. Still it meant that out of the two weeks, they only really had one week of practice time.

Madam Hooch then proceeded to explain the tryout procedure. Harry had never actually been to tryouts. He had been chosen to play Seeker for Gryffindor after McGonagall had seen him catch a Rememberall thrown by Malfoy. At the time he had been so relieved that he wasn't going to be expelled to be expelled, that he hadn't given it any thought. Since then no one had cared to challenge the existing team members and no new positions had opened up. Madam Hooch finished with a stern lecture about not tolerating anymore nonsense and they all got the distinct impression that she would come down pretty hard on anyone who broke the rules.

Harry returned to Gryffindor tower. It seemed that everyone was out exploring the castle and grounds. Harry went looking for the rest of his teammates but it wasn't an easy task to round them all up. He filled them all in on the news and listened to their outraged protests.

"I mean how are we supposed to get back up to snuff especially after not playing last year?" yelled Fred.

"There's no way we're going to be able to teach someone new all our plays. This takes time. That's why teams usually flip for the order of the games," George fumed.

"Of course, the Slytherins will be in the same boat," said Alicia.

"Yeah but how long can it take them to find the worst broomstick in school?"

"I don't know," said Fred sarcastically, "you have all these difficult decisions to make. Is it worse to have a broom that skews to the left or one that can't climb too high?"

"On the bright side, if the Slytherins are trying to curse a broomstick, they won't have too much time to do it in. I mean first they'd have to learn the curse and then learn how to conceal it."

"Not that I'd put anything past Slytherin, but I'm not sure they'd take a chance on actually jinxing the broom. Magical contracts are serious stuff. If they weren't, Harry would never have had to go through with the Triwizard Tournament last year," Angelina said.

Harry fervently wished he hadn't had too also.

"They'll probably get expelled if they tried," said Katie hopefully.

"Being expelled would probably be the least of their problems. Magical bindings have been known to backfire in the nastiest of ways – fatal ways," said George with a shudder.

"Besides, Dumbledore is keeping an eye on things," said Alicia reassuringly, "Of course, on the other hand, we'll have to keep up the our end."

"Well it's only a week. It won't be fun, but if we have to, we have to."

"Hey, what's all this talk about losing?" asked Fred, "There a good chance we can win. I mean we've got a great team, if I do say so myself."

"Our biggest problem is going to be deciding how to spend all that gold," said Katie with forced cheerfulness.

"That's the spirit," said Harry. "Let's go to lunch. We need to find out who wants to try out for Keeper."

.

.

Over lunch they put their heads together for a quick strategy session. They decided that training backups for all the positions was still a good idea but for now they would have to concentrate on finding and training a Keeper.

"There's no use practicing on your Firebolt, Harry. I think you had better use the school brooms. Try out different ones," Alicia said.

Harry agreed it might be a good idea. At Harry's direction they spread the word that anyone thinking of trying out for Keeper should come down to the Quidditch field after lunch.

Harry went to Madam Hooch's office after lunch to pick up the Quidditch balls. He picked up the case and trotted over to where the team was waiting by the bleachers.

"All right there, Harry?" called a voice and Harry didn't even have to look up to see that it was Colin Creevy. His younger brother sat next to him. Colin was busy telling Dennis all about Quidditch. "And the Seeker catches the Snitch. Harry Potter is the best Seeker – never failed to catch the Snitch, except for the time with the Dementors."

Dennis gazed at him with shining eyes. Harry wished Colin wasn't giving him such a hard reputation to live up to.

"Of course if he can't use his Firebolt, we might get to see him miss," said Colin animatedly, "That's why I brought my camera; so I can take a picture if he does."

So much for confidence.

Ron came up with a bunch of old brooms. "Here you go, Harry. I looked for the worst ones I could find."

"Thanks."

"Who's interested in trying out?" asked Harry.

"I am," said Ron, "But I don't think there are going to be too many others."

Harry didn't say anything. He had heard Dean, Seamus and the others talking. Harry knew how much Ron hated Muggle cleaning but Ron showed no hesitation. He'd better pull himself together. "Okay everyone, grab a broomstick. Let's start with some warm ups."

Soon everyone was taking a few laps around the field. Harry mounted a rather bedraggled looking broom and joined them. He instantly missed his Firebolt; this broomstick was sluggish and as the team moved on to running loops and figure eights, Harry had to really fight to keep it on course. On the other hand, it was wonderful to be up in the air again. I felt so good to be flying again that he let out a whoop. Then he signaled Angelina to take out the Quaffle and they began tossing it to one another. It was quite clear Harry was pretty rusty.

Harry tried to remember all the drills Wood used to have them do. He found it a lot harder to keep an eye on everyone while trying to do the drills at the same time. After a while he noticed that a few students began drifting into the stands to watch. Now he felt self conscience with them there watching him, critiquing him as captain. Thinking of this, he became more awkward than ever. He just knew that everyone was noticing his every mistake. In spite of the wind from his maneuvers, his robes were sticking to his back with sweat. When their shadows started getting longer, he signaled everyone back to the ground.

"Whew!" said Alicia, wiping her sweaty face, "That was a good work out."

"And here I was hoping that without Wood, I was going to have an easy time of it," said Fred, dropping down beside them.

"Not bad for the first time out. Good job," Angelina commented as she joined them. Harry knew she was trying to be kind and say something nice. He knew he must have looked like an idiot up there. He didn't know what was worse; having Angelina telling him that he had done a good job when he stunk like a pole cat or if she just came right out and told everyone they were sunk without Wood.

He looked at his watch it read, "Time for Quidditch Practice". He sighed with exasperation. Not that he didn't appreciate the watch Ron and Hermione got him but he already knew it was practice time. What he wanted to know was how much time was left. He asked Katie for the time.

She said there was only fifteen minutes left of their practice session. How could their time be almost over when they hardly started?

"For the rest of practice, I think it would be a good idea to let anyone who is interested in trying out to give it a go."

Ron's face broke into a smile and he eagerly hopped off his seat and trotted over to the collection of school brooms and chose one.

"Anyone else?" Harry asked, "After a bit, Colin Creevy handed his precious camera to Dennis and hesitatingly made his way over to the brooms. He picked up a broomstick, tripped over the handle of another, but was smiling when he got to his feet. He mounted and made it move toward where Harry and Ron waited.

"All right Harry?" he asked. Collin was practically bubbling over with enthusiasm. He waved at his brother.

"Can I really fly with you?" he asked breathlessly.

Harry swallowed his first impulse to tell him no. "Try outs are open to anyone second year and up."

"Thanks Harry!" then he waved to his brother again. Suddenly Dennis was running over and grabbing a broomstick too. Dennis, if possible was even more accident prone then Colin or even Neville Longbottom.

"Anyone else?" he asked, but there seemed to be no takers.

"Are you kidding?" scoffed a voice from the crowd, "No one wants to be on the losing side except Weasels and Creeps."

Harry turned to see Draco Malfoy. Next to him stood Crabbe and Goyle like two personnel warts.

"The Weasleys are so used to being losers that they can't resist another opportunity and the Creevy brothers just don't know any better."

"Oh, we're not really going to try out," said Colin unfazed. "We just wanted a chance to fly with you."

Harry couldn't decide if he was relieved or angry.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry tried to keep his voice even.

"Just checking out the competition," he said causally. "If this is all you've got to offer, then I'd go ask Filch for some cleaning supplies if I were you." Crabbe and Goyle laughed like idiots.

"Yeah, sez who?" they all turned to see a small girl push her way out of the stands.

Harry recognized her as the first year he had met at the table last night. Tenobia was a tiny slip of a girl. The top of her head world barely reach his chest but she angrily strode over and one of the broomsticks.

Malfoy burst out laughing.

"Up," she commanded and one of broomsticks popped up into her hand. She mounted it, and smoothly to hover next to Harry. "Let's go."

Malfoy leaned on Goyle for support. "You're going to let the little pip-squeak try out?"

"If she wants to," said Harry. He gave the girl an encouraging nod, but she didn't look nervous. She looked furious.

"Don't you know, little girl, that first-years aren't supposed to be on the house teams?" Malfoy informed her. "On the other hand, a little pixie like you might be the perfect choice. You're about the right size for a house elf."

At that moment she did remind Harry of a pixie. One of the viscous little villains Lockhart had once set loose. They had only taken a matter of minutes to effectively disassemble a classroom. She dove at Malfoy, who belatedly realizing his danger, ducked as her broom passed over his head, knocking off his hat.

Malfoy swore furiously and she laughed. Malfoy pulled his wand out of his pocket and aimed it at her. Harry shouted and reached for his own wand but it was too late. A beam of red sparks shot out toward Tenobia. Gasps came from all around but the spell never connected. At the last moment, Tenobia had wrenched her broom into a tight circle and the jet of sparks passed beneath her swinging braids. She laughed again and flipped Malfoy a rude gesture.

"Stop right there, Malfoy," Harry shouted in the same cold voice Snape used in class. To his surprise, it worked. Malfoy froze long enough to see all the wands pointing menacingly in his direction. Practically every Gryffindor present had drawn his or her wand. Even Crabbe and Goyle could do the math and see that they were outnumbered.

"Try again if you think you'll have better luck," taunted Tenobia, waggling her fingers in her ears.

Harry was afraid that Tenobia might provoke Malfoy into trying to take revenge in spite of the twenty or so wands pointing in his direction. So he called loudly for them to stop wasting valuable practice time on slimy Slytherins and line up. Ron, Tenobia, and the two Creevy brothers pulled even with Harry.

"Right," he said ignoring Malfoy, who was making vague threats. Harry could hear Malfoy in the background. Draco hated being ignored. Harry knew he could count on the others to make sure he didn't try anything. "Now, I want to see how you fly. Just take a lap around the field and then see if you can do that figure eight."

Tenobia flashed Ron a challenging grin beneath her pigtails.

"Ready? Go!"

They dashed off. Colin and Dennis were soon left far behind. Side by side, Ron and Tenobia rounded the far end of the field and began making their way back. Dennis and Colin had a near collision with the goal posts and were just righting their wobbling brooms when neck and neck with no more than inches between them, Ron and Tenobia flashed past. Harry could see that Ron was gripping his broomstick urging every ounce of speed out of it. They swooped into the figure eight maneuver, each trying to pull the tightest turn at top speed. For a moment it looked like they were going to collide but they swerved aside and the last moment. In a matter of seconds it was over. Panting, they brought their brooms to a stop before Harry.

Tenobia and Ron were looking at each other. It was obvious they had each expected to easily outstrip the other and were adjusting to the nasty shock that they had real competition.

Laughing, Colin and Dennis came up. They practically fell out off their brooms dismounting. "Thanks Harry. That was fun."

"Can we do it again, sometime?" Dennis bounced up and down.

"I'm going to write to Mum and Dad, telling them all about it," crowed Colin as the two of them resumed their seats.

"Very nice, both of you," said Angelina. "If you can stop the Quaffle as well, I'd say you both have a shot at it."

Harry looked at his watch. It read 'Time for Lunch.' "Looks like our practice session is over," he sighed. "We have the field at 7:00 am. Tomorrow morning. Don't be late. You two can come if you want. You can take turns being Keeper and see how it feels."

.

.

Back in the common room after dinner, Harry found Hermione ensconced in one of the overstuffed chairs turning thought the pages of a thick book with lots of complicated looking diagrams on it.

"Hello," said Harry sitting down next to Ginny, being careful not to sit on Crookshanks who was using a very large book fallaciously entitled "A Brief History of Elves, Fairies and other Magical Peoples" as a pillow.

"Don't worry, Crookshanks, Professor Bins has that effect on all of us," he said.

"That's not for professor Bins," said Hermione. "Ginny and I have been to the library trying to find out about making a magical contract. It's going to be harder that I thought to make a temporary one. Magical contracts tend to be rather permanent by their very nature."

"Does it have to be a magical contract?" asked Harry.

"That's the problem. Elves are magical creatures. I'm not sure a Muggle type would work." Hermione buried her face in her book again.

"How did Quidditch practice go?" Ginny asked.

Harry filled them in on what Madam Hooch had said. He pulled the schedule from his pocket. Hermione took it from him and studied it. "That's not going to leave you much time for doing your homework," she frowned.

"Did Ron play?" asked Ginny "How did he do?"

"He flew pretty well but he has competition," Harry explained about the first year girl who had challenged Malfoy.

"Ron really wants to make the team," confessed Ginny with light laugh. "He was talking about it all summer and kept pestering Fred, George, and Charlie to practice."

Harry had a new reason to regret being captain. What if this girl turned out to be a better player. He didn't want to have to choose between friendship and fair play. Well she was a first-year so maybe that would disqualify her. Of course Harry had only been in his first year when he became Seeker.

He looked at the schedule again. They were going to have to get some more practice time in. Maybe they could use the field over by Hagrid's hut when they couldn't use the Quidditch pitch. He'd also need some time to try out different brooms and get some extra practice in himself. He also better make a list of skills they most needed to practice and plays they should work on. He borrowed a quill, parchment an ink from Hermione and began sketching out a detailed practice schedule.

He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't even hear his name being called until Ron threw a cushion at him. He looked up from a chart every bit as complicated as the one Hermione was poring over.

"Where were you?" Harry asked as Angelina, Fred and George came in.

"Watching the Slytherins practice.'

"How does it look?" Harry almost wishing he didn't have to hear the answer.

"Actually not too bad," said Katie coming through the entrance.

"That is not too bad from our point of view," amended Alicia.

"The Slytherins have a few positions to fill and it seems they spent most of their practice session – ahem 'discussing' – the possibilities," said Angelina.

"They were doing a good job of trying to murder each other," translated George.

"If they keep this up, there'll be no one left to face us," said Fred cheerfully.

"On the other hand," said Ron gloomily, "We get to play whoever proves to be the strongest, toughest, and nastiest."

.

.

The following morning found them all shivering in the early morning light. Harry had already been up for hours. He had woken in the dark and being unable to fall back asleep, spent time going over the practice schedule. He wracked his brains trying to remember all the drills Wood used to have them do. He thought of the charts and intricate maneuvers Wood used to show them. There was not going to be time to work up many new ones from scratch. Besides, this game was going to call for a different strategy. Harry felt sure that Gryffindor had better Chasers and Beaters, but he had to face it; the weak spots on the team were going to be whoever played Keeper and himself.

No offense to Ron or Tenobia, but they just didn't have as much practice working with the team and honing their skills under Wood's tutelage. He'd only be kidding himself if he thought that he'd be anything other than a laughing stock on whatever broom Malfoy picked out. He needed a strategy that took advantage of good beaters and Chasers. They'd have to keep control of the Quaffle and hope to score enough points so that they didn't lose by too much. He'd tried to think of what plays would do them the most good.

Thoughts like these went round and round in his head as he paced the common room before the glowing embers from last night's fire.

When he tried to share some of his thoughts with his teammates, Fred yawned loudly and complained, "Now you are starting to sound like wood."

"Thank you," Harry said, pleased, "But I'm new at this, so if you have any ideas…"

"That was not a compliment," said George.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't pick the practice schedule," He handed them each a copy of the schedule Madam Hooch had given them with some of his own additions marked out in color coded ink.

They quickly warmed up and then began to practice some of their old moves. There was no doubt about it, they were rusty, but none more so than himself. He was riding an old shooting star which tended to buck as it gained altitude. Harry was twisting this way and that, trying to keep an eye on everything at once. How was he going to look for the Snitch and keep an eye on the opposing team as well?

When their session was over, they headed into the castle for breakfast.

"How did it go?"asked Ron as Harry dropped into a seat beside him.

"'Bout what you'd expect. Our next practice is the afternoon slot. I'm going to use the morning to try out school brooms and try to get a feel for some of them."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry was about to launch into a long lecture about broomsticks, practice sessions, and Quidditch in general. She was saved by Professor McGonagall who arrived to hand out course schedules.

"Oh great, we have Snape first thing Monday morning," groaned Ron.

"Well look at the bright side, at least we get it over with," said Hermione.

Harry's plans for the morning was disrupted when Wendel Marshwaddle, the new Gryffindor prefect announced that since most first-years are habitually late for classes first week owing to the difficulty in learning their way around the huge castle they were each to take a first-year and walk them through their schedule and show them around.

Fred and George protested, "But we were going to use this time to do a little research."

Wendel gave them a lecture on how they were going to take advantage of having a weekend before start of classes to help new students get acclimated and it was their duty to help new students out. Harry could have told Wendel that appealing to the twin's sense of duty wasn't going to work. But they agreed it was an opportunity to meet some first-years.

To Harry's surprise, he was teamed up with Tenobia. He looked her schedule over and then began walking her through the classes.

"I'm not sure this will help much," she said when Harry showed her a hidden passage that could only be used on Wednesdays. "I won't remember all this."

"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it. The teachers are pretty understanding the first week. They know everyone always gets lost. Don't be late for Potions though, whatever you do. Snape is always looking for an excuse to take points off Gryffindor. His class is in the dungeons but fortunately, its generally easy to find.

"So, do I really have a chance to get on the team, or are you just wasting my time?" she asked staring at them in a slightly defiant way.

"Well you are a first-year. First-years usually don't get on the house teams."

"You did," her voice was more than slightly defiant now.

"Well yeah, but that was partly just being in the right place at the right time. I started here just after the pervious Seeker graduated and there really wasn't anyone else."

"Everyone says you're really good. But I watched you. You're not bad, but I'm not sure you're as great as they say you are," her tone was matter-of-fact as if she was just mentioning that there were omelets for breakfast.

"You really just say what's on your mind," said Harry, taken aback.

She shrugged, "Well, what do you think my chances are?" she said again.

Harry walked along the corridor. "Well, you seem to be able to handle a broomstick well enough,' said Harry guardedly.

"You're not just stringing me along are you?" she accused.

"What?' asked Harry surprised.

"I get the impression you have already decided on Ron and you're just letting me try out because no one else wants to because they figure Gryffindor is going to lose.

"Tell me, does your mouth get you in trouble a lot?"

"Yeah, I guess it does," she answered frankly.

"I kind of figured the way you told Malfoy off."

She shrugged again, "He irritated me."

"He's good at that," Harry agreed.

Harry showed her the Charms classroom.

"So do I have a chance or what?" she asked again almost fiercely.

"Yes you do have a chance," Harry told her.

She considered him for a while as if she were weighing him to the last molecule then she nodded. Harry consulted her schedule and set off toward professor Bins' class. He looked at her sideways and asked, "So, do you think I have a chance?"

"Chance for what?"

"Does Gryffindor have a chance?"

She was quiet for a while, considering. "Well I watched Slytherin during practice today. Everyone seemed to think they looked pretty bad because they spent half their time arguing."

"But you don't think so.'

She gave him another one of her shrugs. "It seemed chaotic because there were so many people who wanted to try out. But most of them didn't really look serious. Once they get weeded out, things will settle down. I kept an eye on the veteran team members. They're not so bad. That Malfoy may be a jerk, but he looked better than you. Of course he had a Nimbus 2001, so maybe it's not a reasonable assessment. After tryouts, when things settle down, they could shape up to be formidable team."

"Gryffindor has a pretty good team," Harry pointed out.

Yeah it does. But it's going to have a weak defense. New players always are," she flashed a grin. "less experienced; even me. Then again, Slytherin has new players too."

"Maybe Slytherins will be so worried about competing with each other that they won't work together?"

"No, I don't see that happening. They want to win enough to cooperate. Success breeds success. They'll follow anyone who can give them victory. But the biggest problem, she went on "Is that our team is going to be virtually playing without a Seeker. On some crummy old broom, there's going to be little you can do to keep them from just stomping all over you."

"Well you may have a big mouth," said Harry, "but it's an honest one. So if you think Slytherin is going to win, why do you want to be one the team?'

"I love the game. If the Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin, I'd be slugging it out there instead. I figure being a house elf for a week is worth it," she said defiantly.

"You're only saying that because you don't know Slytherin, "Harry warned. "Why don't you wait until next year? Then you will have a better shot at more positions. As a second year there will be no question about your eligibility and you won't have to be a Slytherin slave for a week?"

Her tone was nonchalant, but a faint flush crept across her face. "The odds are against us, but I think there is a chance we could win. Having a big mouth isn't my only problem. I'm also an incurable optimist."

It was only after handing Tenobia over to Colin Creevy to finish the tour, that Harry realized she hadn't asked him about his scar or You-Know-Who even once. Harry grabbed a bunch of broomsticks and went out to Hagrid's hut.

.

.

Hagrid was busy constructing something that looked rather like a bird cage. That is if a bird cage was made out of barbed wire and big enough to hold a flying school bus.

"Hello, Harry. Sorry I can't stop for a chat just now, but I've got to finish this," he apologized. "Professor Flitwick is coming this afternoon to weld everything together and I have to get it all into place by then."

Harry eyed the reinforcing steel bars Hagrid was adding to the structure. Hagrid hadn't taken these precautions with the horrible Blast-ended Screwts. Harry was apprehensive about anything Hagrid thought needed a cage like that. He tried to reassure himself that it was too small to hold a dragon.

"That's okay. I just wanted to know if I could practice my flying here for a bit."

"Oh sure, Harry. Go right ahead, I heard about the bet an' all. Ya probably shouldn't have gotten mixed up with Malfoy, but I don' car what anyone says, I know you can do it."

Harry spent about an hour trying out different brooms. He tried not to think of his Firebolt locked away in his room. Tenobia's comment about him not being that good had stung. When lunch time came, he was damp with sweat but although the school brooms had poor handling, he could feel some of his old skills coming back.

After lunch the team returned to the Quidditch pitch. They spent part of their time practicing some of their plays. They broke into groups to practice against each other. Toward the end of the session Ron and Tenobia each took a turn playing keeper while the Chasers scored goals.

Ron was right; he had improved over the summer. He crowed, face flushed with excitement and exertion as he deflected on of Angelina's shots. Tenobia scowled then grabbed the Quaffle and batted it at the left goal hoop. Ron who was busy looking at Angelina moved too late to stop it.

"Hey! I wasn't ready," protested Ron.

"Well the Slytherins won't wait until you're ready,' she retorted.

Ron swooped to retrieve the Quaffle. Harry could hear him muttering angrily "….kid thinks she's so smart."

Deciding it was a good time to step in before things got out of hand, he called them down to the ground. 'Well, we did better than yesterday, but we're a long way from where we were towo years ago. The Slytherins have the field this evening, but Hagrid is letting us use the area near his hut. Maybe you can give me a hand with testing out some of the broomsticks. Also hagrid has this big cage thing. That might be the perfect place to practice some of our tighter maneuvers. Trust me, you don't want to miss."

.

.

That evening they trudged back to the castle in the fading light, Fred grumbled. "You know, Harry, I think you're trying to imitate Wood maybe a bit too much. Here it is the night before the start of tem and instead of thinking about where to hide some dung bombs so as to amuse Filch, I'm thinking about going to bed."

George moaned in agreement, "Who would have thought we would come to such a sorry state. It was a good thing we had this morning off or we never would have been able to get the powder for the chocolate set up."

"Are you still making those chocolate hogs?" asked Harry.

"Yep. We've been working on the cards all summer. We got some of the older students done but we haven't done any of the new kids, of course," explained Fred.

"And we couldn't make any of the chocolate at home. Mum would have skinned us. We made the first batch of magical powder so that when the chocolate arrives we'll be able to get started," George said in a conspiratorial whisper. "If that goes well, we'll make a larger batch next time."

That evening the common room was filled with happy chatter as they anticipated the start of classes. Soon the room was decorated with filibuster fireworks. Even Hermione had set her books aside and was giggling with Ginny about something. Ron was sitting a little way away and scowling.

Harry plunked himself down next to Ron and blew out his breath. Ron continued to glare at the girls. "Girls. I always thought Hermione was intelligent but you'd think she would have something better to talk about than Krum."

"I thought you and Krum were okay?" said Harry cautiously.

"Well yeah, but there he is the greatest Seeker of the decade and do you think she even says one word about Quidditch? No they're over there giggling about the color of his eyes."

Harry, whose mind was tuned to Quidditch said blankly, "Eyes? What does his eye color have to do with catching the Snitch?"

"Exactly what I mean," said Ron. "Sometime girls make no sense at all. I mean they're always saying we're childish and immature and there they go—"

They were interrupted by a burst of laughter. Not surprisingly, Fred and George were the cause. They appeared to have two of their legs tied together and were attempting to get across the room. Exactly what they were doing was unclear, but it involved pretending to argue about which way to go and falling down a lot.

Then George dropped a Filibuster firework down Fred's robes. It went off with a terrific bang. This knocked Fred flat and pulled George over on top. Fred retaliated by force-feeding George a ton-tongue toffee. George howled around his rapidly swelling tongue, which flopped slimily out of his mouth. They began screaming insults at each other. George was hampered by his tongue and the Filibuster firework that was still sending up sparks from Fred's pants.

They began to accuse each other in more and more ridiculous ways until they challenge each other to a duel. It was sort of hard to tell in George's case as he resorted to hand motions. Everyone laughed and clapped at their antics. But their smiles slipped when the twins actually did pull out their wands.

The bowed to each other, knocking their heads together, and then held their wands ready, glaring at each other. Around the common room people looked at each other. Were they serious? They were always joking around, maybe they had finally pushed things too far?

"Fred…George…" began Lee Jordan.

"It's too late for that now," shouted Fred.

George sputtered something unintelligible but gestured with his wand.

"On three, then," growled Fred, "One, two…"

Several people leapt forward to stop them. There was a brilliant flash and when Harry blinked his sight clear, he could see Fred holding a large bowl of oatmeal and George appeared to be holding a steering wheel. Both were laughing. Fred took out his real wand and restored George's tongue so they could laugh better. They toppled to the floor in paroxysms of mirth. Everyone clapped and cheered their performance.

They helped each other up and announced, "We'd just wanted to announce that we will be offering these and other wonderful items for sale this year. The common room laughed and cheered again. The twins pulled out a stack of order forms so that everyone could get a look at the types of things they could buy and the prices.

"Not all of the merchandise is ready yet. But we figured it would be good advertizing to let you have a sneak preview.'

After a time they made their way over to the couch and flopped next to Ron.

"Better not let Mum find out Weasley Wizarding Wheezes has risen again," said Ron.

"That's new," said Harry pointing to the ring that was still binding their ankles together.

"We're still working on this one. Its sort like a leg-locker curse, only you don't have to be there to do it. You just leave this ring somewhere and if someone steps on it, it will bind their legs together. We decided it would be funny to stage a fake duel while we waited for the spell to wear off," said George.

"It's not really ready for market yet. We can't seem to get the release spell right so we have to wait for the charm to dissipate," explained Fred. They put their bound legs up on a table.

"Well it better wear off by morning," said Harry, "You have to be up by for Quidditch practice at dawn tomorrow. We've got the field before breakfast."

At Harry's urging, the team turned in relatively early. Fred and George hobbling together up the stairs. It was only when Harry was pulling on his pajamas that he remembered the dream catcher. He wondered where Sirius was and if it was possible to send him an owl.


	10. Chapter 10 Term Begins

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 10 Term Begins

Potions was Harry's least favorite class and to add insult to injury, Gryffindor had the class with Slytherin.

Ron grumbled beside him, "It's bad enough that we have to put up with Slytherin but a double potion class just doesn't seem right."

When Harry had first met Professor Snape, he had thought Snape had disliked him. He was wrong; Snape detested him. Well if he got through the whole summer with the Dursleys, how bad could this be? Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their usual seats and began taking out their materials.

"I've been studying all summer, getting ready for this class," Hermione said as she set up her cauldron.

"How could you have done that?" asked Ron in disgust, "We only got our books last week!"

Both Harry and Ron were used to Hermione's work-aholic tendencies but Hermione surprised them by blushing.

"Victor helped me. Durmstrang offers advanced classes," Hermione said, ignoring Ron's scowl, "but sometimes I think even with the lousy teachers we've had for Defense Against the Dark Arts, there is a lot they could learn from us. On the other hand they all seem to know a lot more curses. Victor says that if the Ministry of Magic and the International Committee on Magical cooperation didn't demand that they teach it they probably wouldn't."

"Well considering the headmaster was a Death Eater, that shouldn't be much of a surprise," Ron answered testily.

Hermione continued as if she hadn't heard. "They have a new headmaster now. I really hope things will work out. Of course Krum graduated, so now he isn't a student, but he is going to be an assistant when he isn't playing Quidditch, of course. He is hoping to use the contacts he makes playing with the Vrastra Vultures to get some cross-cultural magical studies started. He thinks he might make a career out of it. After all, he told me his Quidditch days won't last forever and he wants to do something important with his life."

"Victor does everything doesn't he?" grumbled Ron setting his cauldron down with a bang that made it ring like a bell.

"Well," Hermione said huffily, "It's very important. I think we need someone to do it. It's a good idea to start thinking of our futures after Hogwarts. We've got to take the O. this year."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me, Percy has been after me all summer about that. My mother too."

"Whatever we do, first we'll have to get through potions. Would you look at the board?" On the board was one of the most difficult potions Harry had ever seen, including the Pollyjuice potion they had found  
in the restricted section of the library.

It seemed the others had also noticed the board; there were some muffled exclamations as they read the list. There were quite a few ingredients that definitely were not available in student stores.

"How does he expect us to do this?" fretted Hermione. "It requires constant attention for hours and we've got other classes. He can't expect us to stay here all day? Can he?"

"The only phoenix feather I have is in my wand," said Harry. "Do you think he's going to supply us with one? And how about powdered Aurelius de Coeur? I don't even know what that is."

"I doubt it, that's really expensive. I don't think he'd give us any. Do you think we are going to have to pay for it?" Ron looked worried.

Snape cleared his throat and the class fell silent. He paced back and forth across the front of the room for a few moments, making a point to stare at Harry until Harry felt that his robes should be catching fire.

"Another year. For many of you this will be your final attempt to learn the rudiments of the noble art of potions. For others, it will be the start into the glories of deeper wisdom. As you have heard, the headmaster has directed us to change our curriculum to reflect 'mutual cooperation and good will'. To that end, I will teach you about the Trust Potion."

Snape giving a lesson on trust and good will? Harry decided it was time to be wary. "As many of you have noticed, making this potion will mean a considerable investment of time and materials. Although, there are some of you who may be devoted enough to attempt it," he smiled at Malfoy, "it would be a waste of resources for those of lesser talent." He looked pointedly at the Gryffindors. "It is unfortunate that the weaker students should hold back the more talented ones. I therefore do this lesson as a demonstration."

"The first part of this portion requires considerable patience and capabilities that are beyond many of you. So, I have completed the first part in advance," explained Snape in his carefully precise and disdainful voice.

He removed a black cloth that covered a large cauldron in front of the room. Hermione learned forward biting her lip, trying to get a better view. Snape began outlining the steps that had gone into the potion so far. Harry and the rest of the class hastily began taking notes.

"At this point, the liquid has cooled and jelled. It is time to reheat it for the final steps."

Snape waved his wand and the fire appeared beneath the cauldron. He then went on telling them details about how the potion needed to be heated just right and the exact color it should be when the powdered Aurilius was added. In spite of himself, Harry found himself peering forward as eagerly as Hermione.

"…precise timing is of the upmost importance." Snape began counting backwards from seventeen into the hushed silence of the room. When he reached zero, a tremendous explosion of light and noise rocked the room.

Lavender screamed. Harry's heart thumped in his chest. Neville picked himself off the floor where he had fallen over. Hermione began to take notes frantically.

Snape called the class to order. "It is now ready."

Using a ladle, he filled a phial with the liquid from the cauldron. He held the pale clear blue liquid up to the light.

"This is the Test of Trust."

The potions teacher moved about the room making sure everyone got a good look at the vial.

"If the color is off by the smallest amount, the potion becomes not a testament to trust but death and betrayal."

He moved so that he stood directly in front of Harry.

Snape stared into his eyes. His voce never varied from its condescending tone. "Dumbledore trusts me. Do you have faith in where Dumbledore puts his trust?"

Harry stared back defiantly. "I trust Professor Dumbledore."

Suddenly he realized that he meant it. He and Snape might detest each other but loyalty to Dumbledore and to Hogwarts he could trust. In the same way Mrs. Weasley had accepted Sirius. And if Black could work with Snape, so could he. Without taking his eyes from Snape's face, Harry picked up the vial in trembling fingers.

"No!" cried Ron and Hermione together. Keeping his eyes steadily on Professor Snape, he swallowed the contents in one gulp.

He gasped and dropped the vial. The sound of it shattering on the stone floor broke the silence. A burning sensation filed his stomach and spread outward. His knees gave way and he fell to the floor clutching his middle. Around him students made exclamations of alarm.

"No, don't touch him," Snape spat at Ron and Hermione. "He can get up by himself."

Harry could see Malfoy grinning with amusement.

"Surely someone who has endured the Cruciatus Curse, would be able to shake off a little thing like this. You trust Dumbledore, but you evidently have your doubts about me," Snape sneered. "This potion is activated by doubt and mistrust. It is completely harmless to loyal friends. One would think you would have more faith in a Hogwarts teacher. If you want the pain to stop, you must overcome your distrust."

Harry glared at Snape and the pain in his stomach intensified until he cried out. Snape chuckled. "I would advise you to control your emotions if you want the pain to stop."

Hermione bent down and spoke urgently in his ear. "Harry, if you must stop thinking about how much you hate Snape. Remember when he tried to block the jinx Quirrel was trying to put on your broom? Concentrate on that."

Harry tried. That was in his first year. He had been so sure that Snape was the one who was trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. Pain shot down his limbs. No, don't think about that. It had been Quirrel all along. Snape had tried to help him. He had even volunteered to referee the next Quidditch match to protect him even though it had made Snape unpopular with the other teachers. The pain retreated slightly.

"My, my, one would have thought that the Hogwart's Champion would show the ideals of loyalty to the professors of his school," Snape went on and Harry clamped his teeth; he refused to give Snape the satisfaction of making him cry before the class. "If you want to be free of the pain, you must control your thoughts." The thoughts that went through his head were not helping. "It is not the potion that is causing you this pain, but your own ill will."

Snape filled up another vial and handed it to Malfoy. "Let's see if Slytherins know the value of trust."

Malfoy hesitated a moment and then downed the contents. He stood smiling, showing no ill effects.

"You see, Dumbledore wants us to learn to trust each other. Those of us who have come from a long line of wizarding families have had to build trust to survive in a world where Muggles would burn you at the stake if they could. Yes, yes I know the witches were not really hurt, but the point is Muggles meant to kill and in the most painful way they could imagine."

Harry tried to concentrate on how Snape had tried to save his life. 'He has helped me. He may have done it for his own reasons, but he did try to come after us to save us when he, Ron and Hermione had gone down the tunnel guarded by the Whomping Willow. He probably had genuinely thought he would be saving them at his own risk.'

That was helping; the pain diminished. 'He did it because my father had saved his life,' Harry thought. 'My father risked his own life to help Snape.' Harry concentrated on that thought and the pain gradually faded. He took a long shuddering breath and got shakily to his feet.

"You see the test goes both ways. Trust goes both ways. The drinker has to trust the one who makes the potion enough to drink. And the effect of the potion on the drinker gives proof to the potion maker. rather elegant wouldn't you say?" Snape explained.

Malfoy was grinning at him. "Trust is so important don't you agree?"

Harry didn't respond; he was trying to concentrate on how he trusted Ron and Hermione. It seemed to help.

"Don't worry," Snape said dryly, "The effects will wear off by lunch time so if you want to think ill of me, you will just have to wait until then."

The Slytherins snickered.

They spent the rest of the class copying down the long list of ingredients and complicated directions from the board. Harry tried to focus on forming the letters neatly because every time he let his mind wander and thought about how unfair it all was he was rewarded with another spasm of pain to the great amusement of the Slytherins. Quite apart from the pain, Harry felt his face turn crimson at having his thoughts on display.

.

.

After Snape's class Harry, Hermione, and Ron left the castle and headed to Herbology, grumbling about hating Snape.

"I can't stand him. If he thinks he can do that, then I'll…I'll…pickle him alive," said Ron.

"Ron, you can't do that," said Hermione.

"Just shut up. I trying not to think about it," said Harry.

"Every year he just gets worse. Argh! He's such a…"said Ron.

But what he was, they never found out because just then, they reached Professor Sprout's classroom.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron entered the greenhouse and found seats on upturned pots.

Professor Sprout asked for everyone's attention. "We'll be learning the Grafting Charm, also known as the Conjunctive Spell. If everyone would look up here," she indicated a loaded trestle table along the wall, "You can see, in the purple pots, that I have a small apple tree for each of you and a Venice flytrap in the orange pot."

Taking a knife, she demonstrated how to cut a careful slit on one of the branches on the apple sapling. Then she showed them how to uproot a bit of Venus flytrap and insert it into the slit.

"The spell is fairly simple. Just put both of the plants together but make sure that you are not touching either plant. Tap the place where both plants are touching with your wand three times and say 'Conjuctive Pomme Venice' and with any luck your plants will combine into a whole new plant."

"I thought it was supposed to be a 'Venus' flytrap,"

"Oh no, that's the Muggle variety," laughed Professor Sprout, "the Venice variety has much more snap to it, so watch your fingers."

She demonstrated and the slit sealed itself. The dissimilar plants were smoothly joined as if they had grown that way.

"Cool," said Seamus Finnigan.

"Neat," added Dean Thomas.

"The purpose of this spell is to convince two dissimilar plants to accept each other for mutual benefit. The apple tree provides nourishment for the Venice flytrap, which protects the apple tree."

They collected their pots but soon found out it wasn't as easy as it looked. Harry was able to manage to make the cut into the branch of the apple tree, but jerked his fingers back from the Venice flytrap as it took a nasty chomp at his fingers.

"Get your knife under it, just after it bites," suggested Neville and turned back to his plants.

Harry could hear him murmuring to the Venice flytrap how much it would enjoy sharing the apple tree's sap.

After several tried, Harry managed to get a piece of the Venice flytrap but his fingers were badly nipped by the time he got it in the slit on the apple branch. He tapped the spot and said the spell. The Venice flytrap took a chomp at his wand and he jerked it out of the way. The spell missed.

Professor Sprout frowned in their direction but didn't say anything.

"I don't know why anyone would want to graft a Venice flytrap onto an apple tree in the first place," grumbled Ron.

"To make crab apples, of course," said Hermione, "The Venice flytrap protects the apples from insects, birds, animals, boys on a scrumping spree…"

Just then there was a yell from the other side of the room. "It's got me!" Justin Finch Fletchly yelled. He was tugging at his sapling in terror. At first Harry thought that he had been bitten by the Venice flytrap, but then he could see that his fingers had actually been joined to the branch. The skin on his fingers melted from flesh to bark.

"I told you not to let any part of you touch either plant while you were working the spell," said Professor Sprout. "Really now that you are in your fifth year, I expect you to understand the importance of following directions."

She snipped the twig from the tree with a pair of clippers and sent Justin off the hospital wing. They were all a bit more cautious after that, and eventually Harry managed to get a Venice flytrap grafted onto one of the branches. Neville was humming happily to himself. His tree was decorated with snapping flytraps like a weird Christmas tree. Hermione stayed behind to ask Professor Sprout if it was better to graft near the end of the branches or by the trunk while Harry and Ron washed their bitten fingers.

.

.

After lunch Ron and Harry joined the others waiting for Trelawney's class under the trap door.

Patil and Lavender were whispering in hushed excitement. "I wonder what she's going to teach this year?"

"I don't know," said Ron, "probably 'How to Fake it'. Of course she did teach that last year and the year before come to think of it."

"If you're just going to make fun of things, I don't know why you're still enrolled. You should have dropped out like Granger," Lavender said icily.

"Well how else would we hear about what horrible death we're supposed to suffer?" answered Ron.

"It's not a joking matter!" cried Pavarti, horrified. "I don't see how you can laugh about it, of all people. Think of all the times Potter almost died last year. Madam Trelawney predicted a student would die—and someone did!" her voice choked.

"Yeah but not the student she predicted. In fact I think I would feel safer if she did predict my death – then I'd know I'd be safe," said Harry "If she doesn't predict my death, then I'll worry."

"I know you are just trying to make a joke out of it but, Professor Trelawney said it is better to face what must come no matter how unpleasant," said Lavender in a long suffering tone.

"Well, you could have a point," said Ron, "We haven't done entrails yet. I predict examining chicken or goat guts will be rather unpleasant."

The girls' faces twisted in disgust. Studying entrails did not sound appealing. The trap door opened and a ladder dropped down. Harry shrugged and reached for the rungs and climbed up. It was like an oven. The ever present fire was the only source of lighting in the stifling room. Heavy curtains covered the windows and carpets, the floors. Curls of smoke rose from numerous incense burners. Harry and Ron chose poufs farthest away from the fire.

"Whew, on a day as hot as this, you wouldn't think she'd have a fire going," sighed Harry.

Professor Trelawney waited for them to take their seats in silence. She seemed oblivious to the heat and was wrapped in scarves and wisps of smoke. She regarded them through her huge spectacles as they settled down.

"Oh Professor," babbled Patil, "We are so glad to be back."

Professor Trelawney gave a brief smile but said nothing. The silence began to weigh heavily and they shifted uneasily.

At last she spoke in a whispery voice, "Oh my dears I am so glad to see you in the flesh once again. At last year's events have proved, seeking the future can be a dangerous business. But one must face it with courage. It is better to accept what lies ahead and be prepared for it. I feel there are evil times ahead so I must warn you to strengthen your resolve to do that which must be done. Although it is not an easy task, sometimes it is necessary what one makes sacrifices to find what lies in store, so that others may be forewarned."

"Yuck," muttered Ron out of the corner of his mouth, "It is going to be entrails."

"Although it is rather advanced for fifth years, the Spirits tell me it is necessary that we essay the difficult art of dream interpretation."

Harry suddenly felt a chill despite the temperature of the room. He was willing to bet that the spirits had nothing to do with it. Madam Trelawney had been frustrated when Harry had refused to tell her about the dream he had experienced in her class at the end of last year. Rita Skeeter, the obnoxious reporter had written about the episode and now everyone thought Harry was taken to having strange fits.

"Dumbledore has spoken to us all about building trust between us. Nothing will do so better than sharing our dreams and examining them for the secrets they reveal," Trelawney's voice wavered with suppressed excitement.

Lavender and Patil giggled nervously but Professor Tralawny's eyes glittered avidly at Harry through her glasses.

"You need not fear to speak anything within these walls for we all must share the burden of the gift of the inner eye together."

There was a sudden crash as Neville Longbottom's elbow slipped and he bumped into the shelf loaded with tea cups beside him. A babble of low excited murmurs filled the room. When it had subsided again, Madam Trelawney continued in her spookiest voice.

"The art of dream interpretation is very advanced divinations, so don't expect to understand the meanings of everything yet. It will take time and I wanted to start with it so you will all get lots of practice. She directed them to take out parchment and quills. "We will start by writing down a dream you have had recently. Try to clear your mind and recall as many details as you can. Then you will switch with your partner and try to interpret it. Ron gave Harry a significant look. Harry gave his head the tiniest of shakes. He'd be darned if he was going to tell Professor Trelawney about his dream with Voldemort. So while Ron scratched his head and began scratching his quill on the parchment, Harry sat staring stubbornly at the blank sheet.

Madam Trelawney drifted about the room, her gauzy shawl floating behind her. She bent low over each pair trying to read their work in the dim light. Soft murmurs of explanation followed in her wake.

Harry looked over Ron's paper. It described him trying to bake a cake. No matter how many ingredients he put in it inexplicably seemed to taste worse and worse. "I couldn't find the right ingredient."

"What were you looking for?" Harry asked.

"Beats me," said Ron "I woke up before I found it."

Then Professor Trelawney was bending over their table. "Of what have you dreamed? Do not be afraid to tell me. I will be happy to share my clairvoyant gifts with you."

"Uh Ron dreamed he was looking for something," said Harry, "But we can't figure out what it was."

"Hmm…," sighed Professor Trelawney. We all are looking for something or someone. Perhaps a future tragedy of loss awaits you my dear—you must be strong. And what have you dreamed?" she turned to Harry a predatory look in her magnified eyes. She snatched up Harry's paper and frowned when she saw it was blank.

"I haven't had any dreams lately," Harry decided not to mention the dream catcher.

"None?" surely you dreamt something? Everyone dreams," she pressed.

"Well, I can't remember any," said Harry.

"None at all? Even the most insignificant dream can carry meaning to the inner eye."

"No, I can't remember a thing," insisted Harry. Let her try to find something dire about a blank page, thought Harry.

She regarded Harry suspiciously. He could hear Neville going on and on explaining to Pavarti about his dream about his toad. It sounded very boring.

"Well perhaps you need to work on recall." She clapped her hands to gather the class's attention. "In order to make a more accurate interpretation of your dreams, it will be necessary to improve your recollection. I am going to teach you a technique to help you remember your dreams more clearly. I want you to place a quill and note pad by your bed so that you can record your dreams as soon as you wake while they are still fresh in your minds."

They spent the rest of class practicing breathing and meditation techniques to enhance dream recall. It was with relief that the class climbed down into the fresher air. Harry fanned himself with his blank parchment.

.

.

They met Hermione in the charms corridor outside Professor Flitwick's class. Professor Flitwick greeted them cheerily from his usual perch on top of a stack of books as they entered and took their seats at benches behind long tables. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if the diminutive teacher was quite human. Not that it mattered; some of his bst friends were quite human.

In his squeaky voice he called the class to order and after a bit they settled down. The first thing he did was ask for the essays he had assigned over the summer. Using an Accio charm he collected the papers, which obligingly sailed across the room to land in a neat stack on his desk.

"I hope you all put a good effort into your assignments over the summer because this term will be learning about wards, memory charms, concealing spells and other methods of avoiding Muggle attention. I'm sure I don't have to remind you of the importance of keeping the Wizarding world hidden from Muggles, so I will be grading you on a bit stricter level than I have in previous years."

There followed a wave of groans but the Charms teacher went on as if they had cheered. "The ability to execute a proper Warding Charm and Concealing Spell is a vital skill and so is almost sure to be part of the O.W.L's which you will all be taking toward the end of this year."

There were some renewed groans from around the room, though predictably, Hermione looked eager.

"But before we begin on that, I thought for the first class we would do something a bit different as sort of a warm up since you are all out of practice. Most of the spells that we will be working on this year have been developed because of the need to keep the Wizarding world hidden from Muggles but when Professor Dumbledore asked that I teach spell that would promote cooperation, I thought it would be fun for us to learn the Camaraderie Charm."

"Excuse me, Professor," said Hermione raising her hand, "But isn't that a variation of the Cheering Charm that was on the final last year?"

Professor Flitwick chuckled appreciatively, "Yes, it is. But by changing the form it can be used to engender feelings of good will and companionship. It is a bit trickier to apply than the Cheering Charm because it has to be employed to cover more than one person. The more people it is used on the more difficult the spell. And of course it is easier to apply to friends than to enemies. In fact, this charm has been used on a few occasions to bring warring factions to agree to sign treaties. Unfortunately, sometime the treaties in question don't last five minutes after the spell wears off."

He had them pair up first and then move onto small groups. First Ron cast the spell over himself and then Harry cast the spell to include Hermione. At first Harry wasn't sure if things that only had worked or not. The three of them had been friends for so long and had experience things that had only cemented their friendship.

But oddly he found himself putting his arm around Ron's shoulders. Ron put his arm around Hermione's and began to sing. Hermione cast her spell to include a pair of Ravenclaw students and soon all five of them had linked arms and were swaying back and forth singing at the top of their lungs. Harry felt so filled with the spirit of brotherly love that he tried to widen the spell to include another group singing a different song next to them.

There was a sudden clash as the whole bunch of them ended up trying to sing both songs at the same time and the spell broke up. They hastily untangled their arms and muttered apologies.

Professor Flitwick had them try it again to get as many people under the same spell as they could. When class was over, they all waved cheerily to each other.

"You know," said Ron congenially, "I wouldn't mind having this bunch of Ravenclaws watch me make a fool of myself on the Quidditch field so much."

"Don't be so sure," Hermione rubbed her ear vigorously, "There are some songs that just weren't meant to be sung together."

"I don't suppose we could enchant the Slytherins with this spell and then they wouldn't mind losing to up," said Harry a bit wistfully.

"No, Professor Flitwick said it was much harder to evoke this spell over enemies. I don't think it will be possible to overcome the dislike between them and us. Besides, not only can't I imagine being friends with them, I don't think I could stand the idea of singing 'She'll be coming 'round the mountain' with them." Hermione said and the all shuddered at the thought and started climbing the stairs heading to Professor Sinistra's classroom

.

.

Professor Sinistra taught astronomy. They had an astronomy class that met regularly at midnight on Wednesday as well as other times if there was something particularly interesting going on in the night sky.

This Monday afternoon, Professor Sinistra had them working on sky maps and calculations in preparation. Harry was almost relieved that Professor Sinistra did not have a lesson on unity and goodwill. Instead she had them calculating the time of lunar rise and fall. Not for the first time, Harry through that it might have been worth it to buy a Lunascope in Diagon Ally. He checked the chart in the back of the text, sighed, and started going back over his math looking for errors.

Finally Professor Sinistra told them to finish it for homework. Harry felt he had enough of working out angles of ascension and was glad to drop his book bag in his room and head for the Quidditch field.

.

.

The rest of the team made encouraging noises but Harry knew that he just wasn't doing well enough to provide any competition against the Slytherins. Harry thought longingly of his Firebolt locked safely in his trunk in his room. It would be so nice to just take it out for a spin but he knew that it would only make it harder to improve his skills on the school brooms. He tried to look confident as he told them that they were doing better than they had yesterday and all they needed was a bit of practice- well a lot of practice.

"Yeah, sure," said George but he glanced away as he said it.

"But we're going to give it our best shot anyway," said Angelina but she didn't look any happier.

.

.

After practice he went in for a hasty meal and then grabbed another of the school's sorry broomsticks and headed out to the enormous cage behind Hagrid's hut to practice. Hagrid was there looking over the construction and tugging on the bars here and there as if testing them for strength.

"Hi, Harry, How's it goin'", Hagrid greeted him.

"Okay, I guess. But I still need a lot of extra practice," he said, "Do you mind if I practice here again?"

"No, tha's fine but this is goin' to be the last evening you can. I'm expecting them to arrive sometime tomorrow."

"Expecting what to arrive?" Harry asked already mounting his broomstick.

Hagrid chuckled gleefully, "You'll find out soon enough. I think I have you for class on Wednesday."

Harry looked at the reinforced bars of the enormous cage and had a feeling that Wednesday afternoon would be too soon.

He set himself to weaving in and out of the bars until it was too dark to see. Then he returned to Gryffindor tower to work on his homework. Ron waved at him to take a seat.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked, thinking that she might be able to find where he had made the error in his calculations."

"Where else? In the library. Ginny's with her," Ron said. Ron didn't look too happy he was working on his assignment for Potions.

Harry wondered if it would be simply easier to just start the problem over from scratch. Well he had until Wednesday to fix it up and their Potions' assignment was due first thing tomorrow morning. He looked up to see Fred and George laughing loudly with their friends over a game of exploding snap.

Harry went over to them. They offered to deal him in but Harry said that he was hoping to get an extra practice session in before breakfast tomorrow morning and that they had all better get to bed early and he had to finish his homework first.

"I'm not sure a hundred galleons is going to be worth it," said Fred.

"Better than being slaves for a week," commented Alicia.

"Of course we could still work our broom bristles off and still end up being slaves for a week," said Katie.

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry said trying to put as much confidence into his voice as could. "There's no way Slytherin is going to be able to beat us. You are just all too good. I was at the Quidditch World Cup last year and even with a fantastic Seeker like Krum, the Bulgarians couldn't beat the Irish side. Their team work was just too good. We can win the same way. I've been playing with you long enough to know that with a little practice, we can get our plays as smooth as silk. It isn't going to matter whether I'm on the Firebolt or not. We can win without it. I know you can…I give you my word."

They stared at him for a while without saying anything. Harry stared back, daring them to deny them, expecting them to laugh in his face."

George nodded solemnly, "If you give your word than that's good enough for me."

"Me, too," said Fred.

Angelina squared her shoulders, "If you think we can, then, we will."

"That's all there is," said Alicia.

"Yep," agreed Katie, "We'll give it our best shot."

Harry could tell from the way she said it that she was thinking that they were going to be slaves anyway. "Besides, I'm not going to give up either. I may not be on the fastest broom, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to give up. I promise."

Harry worked on his homework until Hermione and Ginny came back from the library with an armload of books. She was babbling about contracts, spells, and conditional clauses. She wanted to talk about legalese but Harry turned back to his Potions essay.

"We also got some books for you, Harry," said Ginny.

Harry felt dismayed. "Really Hermione, it's not that I don't want to help but I have Quidditch practice and all my regular homework on tip of it." Harry felt bad saying it, remembering how he had let Hermione down before.

"Of course you do," said Hermione "Ginny and I are working things out. I found you some books on Quidditch,"

Ginny put down her armload and Harry picked them up and read the titles. "He Flew like a Madman – A biography of Dai Lewellyn", "The Beater's Bible" and "Plays and Ploys; a Guide to Common Quidditch Strategies."

"Thanks Hermione. I didn't even know the library had these books," Harry said gratefully.

"I wrote to Madam Pince over the summer and asked if the library could get them,"

Harry was even more impressed. "Wow thanks."

"Sure, but for now we better do our homework and then I'll fill you in on what Ginny and I found out."

It was late when they finished and Harry was tired and he couldn't sleep. He paced about thinking about possible variations on plays they could try on some of their old moves until even Ron irritably told him to shut up.

"If I wanted to listen to someone mumbling about incomprehensible stuff I would have stayed with Hermione. Look I want us to win as much as you, but you're not going to do yourself any good if you wear yourself out pacing all night. Go to bed."

He pulled his curtains closed around his bed and took out the Quidditch books and began to read by the light of his wand, trying to visualize the plays described.

.

.

For a while Harry couldn't figure out what he was doing back in front of the spooky mansion again. He knew that in a moment, he would walk up to the wrought iron gate and it would open for him. It did. And it swung shut with a bang that sent small creatures scurrying for the bushes.

The familiarity hit him again. Then he remembered that this was a dream. He had dreamed he was here before. Oddly he couldn't seem to remember what had happened only that he had found it terrifying.

He found himself in front of an ancient oak door, partly ajar. The lintel was carved with arcane symbols that filled him with dread. The clouds obscured the moon and a chill wind gusted at the partly open door and pushed it open.

Down the hallway lit in the uncertain light of flickering torches, he could just make out a figure. Its robes flapped as it turned a corner and the end of the hall and disappeared. Harry hurried after. It suddenly seemed very important that he find out what the mysterious figure was up to.

He crossed the threshold and the door swung shut behind him. He was afraid the cloaked figure might hear him and he held his breath, heart pounding. But see didn't seem to be any response. Now he was drifting down the hall. He was at the end of the passageway now. He paused. The light from the touches flickered eerily on a stone landing that led to a spiral staircase.

Ahead of him he could hear the muffled tap of footsteps descending into the dark Harry didn't know whether the dream figures could hear him or not but he didn't want to find out the hard way so he descended as silently as possible. He paused just before the stair ended.

A ruddy light glowed on the stones ahead and he knew there was a room ahead. The light came from a fire underneath a large cauldron. Harry could hear the faint bubbling of something boiling under the murmur of voices.

Cautiously, Harry peaked around the corner and to his horror he found himself looking directly into the hooded eyes of a small scrawny wizard. The wizard looked past him with unseeing eyes, stopped, and lifted a crate. Harry saw that the hands grasping the crate were mismatched. One of them was browned and gnarled and missing a finger. The other was silvery and shone with a faint light of its own in the gloom. Wormtail. The crate must have been heavy because he had to struggle to lift it. A clinking sound came from inside as the contents shifted.

"Careful, you fool, you'll break something," snapped a voice. The voice was oddly modulated with a but even so the contempt was clear. "Oh move aside. It is clear that you cannot even be trusted to carry a box."

The speaker was tall and cloaked and gave Harry a sense of familiarity.

"You are a fine one to talk about trust. There you stand with your hood pulled over your face and a disguise spell on your voice because you don't want us to know who you are."

"I put my trust in the Dark Lord, not in any of you. Too many Death Eaters have been betrayed for me to trust any of you. Someone might find it tempting to let something slip to the Ministry and the next thing I'd know a posse of aurors would be at my door. No, my position is too delicate for me to trust any of you and too valuable to our master to let one of you betray me out of petty jealousy."

A high cold laugh cut across Wormtail's whining. Abruptly it turned into a snarl and the argument stopped instantly. Harry knew that just out of his line of sight was Voldemort.

"Please forgive us Master. I was concerned for your welfare," begged Wormtail, bowing obsequiously.

"The Dark Lord's welfare or your own?" scoffed a fourth voice.

"Silence," snapped Voldemort. "I will tell you what is in my best interests. Right now, I wish to take advantage of this wizard's position and that should be enough for all of you."

There were some very humble "Yes, Masters".

"Now, we are here to do what we can do to remedy the situation you have gotten us into. It seems to me the first step ought to be getting rid of you. I think Nagini agrees with me."

There was a flurry of desperate pleading and a pair of legs flopped into view as if their owner had thrown himself at Voldemort's feet. Harry wanted to see who the speaker was. He eased his head around the corner.

A huge snake was smoothly uncoiling itself. It opened its mouth and hissed eagerly. The man whimpered and his begging increased its fervency. Nagini opened its mouth, revealing wicked fangs. The man's cries chocked off in fear. Harry moved to try and get a look at the man's face. The serpent flicked its tongue, tasting the air. Then it stopped and whipped its head around in Harry's direction.

"What is it Nagini? Do you see something my pet?"

Harry jerked his head back around the corner. The wizards may not be able to see him but apparently

Nagini could sense something. Harry held his breath.

"Sss…yessssss…no….something…..not there. Nagini eatsssss now?" the snake hissed.

There was a pause. Voldemort hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps we should wait for a while. It wouldn't do to kill the wretch before he has a chance to rectify his mistakes."

"Oh yes, Master. I will do as you bid me. It wasn't my fault; Dumbledore had arranged a guardian. He must have suspected someone. Give me another chance, Great One. I live to serve you," the wizard cried in desperation, the words tumbling over each other.

"Why should you get another chance? You have failed before. Maybe that is what you wanted. After all you were advocating another plan. One that would have elevated your position. I think that is what you wanted. Putting your own position above what is best for our Master," whined Wormtail.

"No, no…Never. Let me prove it. I won't fail again. Dumbledore cannot be everywhere."

"So tell us, what are you going to do?" sneered the wizard with the disguised voice. Again Harry was hit with an almost overwhelming sense of familiarity. He knew who the disguised wizard was if he could just stop and think a moment.

"I won't tell you," the wizard replied stubbornly. "I only trust the Master. One of you might ruin my plans. How do I know one of you didn't tip off Dumbledore the last time?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I was the one who was for this plan in the first place. You're just trying to cover your mistakes by blaming someone else for your incompetence.

"Ridiculous, am I? Someone tipped Dumbledore off. Someone who had inside information. Now Wormtail and I are known to be Lord Voldemort's supporters. Even if we did go to the Ministry of Magic they would never believe us. They would show no mercy for our crimes. We have nowhere else to go. But you, you have a _position_. Some sort of influence or power to protect. You hide your identity from our Master's loyal supporters. You show you don't trust our Master or us. Maybe you are the one who is planning to betray us?"

Voldemort's icy laugh rang out in the silence that followed. Harry got the distinct impression that Voldemort was enjoying the dissension in his followers.

"You doubt my loyalty, do you?" the sneer came through the voice changing spell. He reached into his robes. At first Harry thought he was going to pull out a wand. Evidently so did the others for they reached for their own. Voldemort laughed again when the figure drew out a bottle. In the ruddy light from the fire, Harry could only make out the sparkle of some type of liquid in the flask.

"This is a Trust Potion," declared the hooded man. "I will prove myself." With that he brought the flask to his lips and swallowed. "See? I am loyal to Lord Voldemort and serve as he commands," he spoke in even tones.

Now Harry knew who the wizard was—it was Snape! How could he have missed it before?

There was a pause, broken only by the soft sound of Nagini's movements. Then Voldemort stepped closer to the tall wizard.

"I have been wondering," Voldemort said softly, "Someone might have gotten word to Dumbledore. Once long ago, you might have harbored resentment for me. Do you still?"

"No, Master," the robed figure replied. The tone was meek but steady. "You were right in what you did. I see that now."

"It is well that you remember that all punishments and rewards come from my hand alone," the dark wizard continued.

"Yes, Master," Snape bowed.

"You were also late to heed my summons, when I used the dark mark to call you to me. Perhaps you were reluctant?"

"Never, Master. But much of my use to you comes from the unique position I hold. If I had responded immediately, I would have destroyed much of my usefulness to you. I deemed it better to wait until I could come to you without revealing my position to our enemy."

Harry was amazed at how calmly Snape replied with Voldemort staring into his hood.

"Even thought I punished you for your tardiness?" Voldemort sounded amused.

"It is what I deserved," the other replied with a smooth bow.

Then the groveling wizard broke out, "Maybe that is not a true Trust Potion you drank. What makes you think I'll believe anything you concocted?"

Voldemort gave a short bark of laughter. A shock of pain passed through Harry's scar as the Dark Wizard turned back to the man still on his knees. "An improperly prepared Trust Potion invariably becomes a deadly poison. Come here," Voldemort commanded.

The man scrambled to his feet and moved closer but he was silhouetted by the fire and Harry could not see who it was. Voldemort took the flask from the tall wizard and thrust it at the trembling wizard.

"Drink," he ordered and the wizard hesitated then swallowed.

He gasped, "I am loyal to you."

"In all things?" asked Voldemort softly.

The man gasped and fell back onto his knees. "Master…"

"What? You don't harbor ambitions for yourself?" asked Voldemort evilly. The man fell forward clutching himself and moaning.

"Perhaps you have plans above and beyond my plan, my desires?"

The man cried out and writhed on the ground. "Master…yes Master. I wanted to rise above all others in your service. I serve you but I had plans to make myself indispensible to you. Please Master…" the sprawling wizard croaked. "But I am loyal to you."

Voldemort laughed again. The sound seemed to make the room temperature drop twenty degrees.

"Yes, I see how far your loyalty goes but you need to know that the only ambitions you have, are my ambitions. The only plans—my plans. You all need to understand that my will alone rules you. You will carry out my desires as I order. Now I order," he hissed at the wizard whimpering at his feet, "to go and carry out the task you bungled in Diagon Alley. You will be watched this time."

"Yes, Master. Thank you. I will never fail you again. I was wrong to think of myself before you…Forgive…"

The large snake hissed in disappointment Voldemort stroked its gleaming body soothingly.

"I'm sorry my pet but you will have to wait a little longer." Voldemort kicked viscously at the face of the groveling heap before him. "Get out of my sight."

The man sobbed and began to crawl toward the steps. The snake moved after him hopefully. Harry scuttled to press himself back against the rough stone passage. The serpent turned toward Harry and Harry found himself staring directly into its glittering eyes. Harry felt a shock as its gaze met his. The snake lunged at him. Harry threw himself sideways. He fell, hit the floor and kept on falling.

.

.

He landed with a crash on the floor of his dormitory along with his blankets in a tumbled heap next to his four poster bed. He rubbed at his burning scar. Nearby he could hear Ron mutter something indistinct and roll over. Neville Longbottom's snores drifted across the room. A fat crescent moon cast shadows into the room.

Harry climbed shakily to his feet and sat on the edge of his bed. The pain was rapidly subsiding. He checked his bed. He had forgotten to set the dream catcher the night before. Was this dream real? Was Snape really a Death Eater again? The cauldron, the huge snake, Death Eaters, and Voldemort were all familiar figures in Harry's nightmares. Harry knew that Snape had been one at one time. He had seen the Dark Mark on Snape's forearm but Dumbledore had vouched for him. He was part of Dumbledore's inner circle. At the end of last year Dumbledore had sent Snape on a secret mission of some sort. At the time Harry had wondered if Snape was being sent to act as some sort of spy. Harry trusted Dumbledore; trusted him enough to drink Snape's potion in class. But Dumbledore was the trusting type. He believed in giving people second chances. Maybe Snape was deceiving them all. Was the dream even real? Quite likely it was a product of his imagination brought on by worry and yesterday's lesson.

He thought about going to Dumbledore. Would Dumbledore even believe him? The headmaster seemed adamant in his staunch support of Snape. He would need a lot more than a vague dream before he brought on an accusation of treason. He knew first hand, the harm baseless allegations could do. And there was a good chance that the dream was just a dream and nothing more.

He might well detest the Potion's teacher but he had to have proof before he started spreading rumors that Snape was Voldemort's spy. He would only cause more division and strife in the school which was only too likely to have repercussions that would come down on his own head. If he couldn't tell Dumbledore, he certainly wasn't going to tell Madam Trelawney.

Thoughts liked these chased themselves round and round in Harry's head until he gave up the idea of sleep. He rummaged in his trunk and took out the dream catcher. He activated it and hung it on his bedstead. He took out the books Hermione and Ginny brought and began to read about Dangerous Dai, the famous Welsh Seeker until it was time to head down to the Quidditch pitch.

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AN: Sorry about the delay in posting.


	11. Chapter 11 Trials and Tibulations

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

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Chapter 11 Trials and Tribulations

Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of dread as he sat down in Snape's class after breakfast. He kept a close eye on Snape but it seemed as if the Potions master felt he had done his duty to Dumbledore's curriculum and with some relief they returned to more typical lessons like shrinking solutions. Harry could hear Malfoy behind him.

"I've heard that if you add banana slug slime to it, it has a time delaying effect on anything you dip into it. So that after the potion dries, it will look perfectly normal and will shrink later. That's how they make shrinking keys."

The Slytherins leaned closer to Malfoy to hear him tell how to make Shrinking Keys and other forms of Muggle baiting. Derisive laughter floated up from Malfoy's direction. Snape continued his lecture, ignoring the conversation centered around Malfoy. Harry knew if he had been talking through one of Snape's lessons, he would have gotten a detention for sure. Snape was unfair, but that didn't mean he was a triple-crossing spy for Voldemort did it?

"Too bad this shrinking solution can't be used on that swelled head of yours, Potter," Snape sneered and the Slytherins laughed. "Of course your potions won't do much good if you don't grate your horseradish roots better than that."

It was probably just as well that the pungent roots were making him cough so he couldn't answer. Then Snape was distracted by a hissing sound coming from Neville's cauldron.

"No, no, Longbottom, I said to use only the right-handed sassafras leaves," Snape scolded.

All in all, Harry was glad to leave Snape's class but try as he might, he couldn't see any reason to accuse him of being a Death Eater.

.

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McGonagall started her transfiguration class with a stern lecture on the dangers of human transformation. She warned them that she would take no fooling around and that if anyone were to be so foolish as to try something they might as well leave now and not come back. She glared at them all fiercely for a moment. No one made a sound. Then she cleared her throat and continued.

"Transmogrification is the process of turning a human into something else. A true transformation does not merely change the physical appearance of a thing but the thing itself. One reason human transmogrification is so difficult is that it requires an intimate knowledge of the human you are transforming. For many wizards and witches the only person they ever know well enough for that is themselves. Some do learn to be able, in time, to perform transformations on a very close friend or companion. It takes a very powerful wizard to be able to change someone not well known. There have been only a few sorcerers in the history of the world that have been powerful enough to transmogrify a complete stranger. I would advise you not to try. Most often nothing would happen but on occasion the results can be quite horrible."

The class stirred uneasily whispering to each other.

Ron leaned over to him and whispered, "Let's try it on Malfoy. That way if something goes wrong…well it would be a win-win situation wouldn't it?"

McGonagall rapped her wand on her desk for attention. "That is why most wizardly spells merely change the shape, size, color, smell, sound, feel, etc. of a thing rather than the nature of the thing itself."

She waved her wand and her ink bottle changed itself into a duck which flapped its wings and quacked loudly.

"It may look like a duck, quack like a duck, walk like a duck, smell like a duck, feel like a duck and taste like a duck, but it is still an ink pot. True transmogrification changes the essence of the thing itself."

Hermione raised her hand. The duck seemed to decide that McGonagall's desk was not the best place to be. It flopped off the edge and landed on the floor and began waddling toward the exit.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" McGonagall called on Hermione.

"If it is just like a duck, why bother with a transmogrification spell?" Hermione like everyone else tracked the duck's progress down the aisle.

"Sometimes simply changing the appearance is not sufficient because there are certain spells that can't be done for one reason or another. It can be difficult to learn, or potion ingredients are unavailable, for instance. But one of the most obvious reasons is that a transformation spell, unlike a transmogrification spell is easily reversed."

She pointed her wand at the retreating duck just as it reached the doorway. There was a small puff of smoke and the duck reverted to being an ink bottle. Dean Thomas went over and picked it up and brought it to Professor McGonagall.

"Thank you," she said absently and put it back on her desk. "Because Transmogrification is difficult and I have no wish to have anyone in the hospital wing, you will only try those exercises that I assign and no others. Anyone who disobeys deserves what happens to them." She gave them all such a stern look that they squirmed a bit. "Any questions?"

No even Hermione had any.

"Now then, the first step is to see how well you know yourselves. She handed out a large packet of worksheets. When Harry got his, he could see it was covered front and back with questions.

"These questions will help you become more aware of yourself and who you are. They are all absolutely confidential, so answer them as best you can."

Some of the questions were quite easy such "What color is your hair?" and others that were harder such as "What is your third worst fault?"

Harry was tempted to give some of these a miss but he glanced up and saw McGonagall looking at him.

"You must answer each of the questions a fully as you can," she said. Harry gave a start. It was almost as if she could read his thoughts. He bent back over his work. By the time they had finished, Hermione had filled hers in with tiny writing and had resorted to using additional pages.

Then Professor McGonagall had them start on their first transmogrification spell. She passed out pairs of shears and set them to transmogrify their hair to make it longer.

Harry rolled his eyes upwards after his first attempt, trying to see if his hair had gotten any longer, but he couldn't see any appreciable difference.

"Is my hair any longer?" asked Ron.

"Uh maybe, I'm not sure although patches have turned green," Harry told him.

"Concentrate!" advised Professor McGonagall, "Think about who you are."

Hermione picked up her shears to trim her waist length hair so she could try again.

Eventually, class ended. Harry felt as worn out and ragged as his new hair cut. McGonagall handed out another large packet of questions about themselves for homework and dismissed them all except Neville so she could work on restoring his hair which was bald in spots.

.

.

After lunch they had Charms again with Professor Flitwick and even Hermione looked a bit tired.

"You know they really shouldn't be allowed to have double Transfiguration and double charms in the same day," said Ron wiping his sweaty face and fanning himself with a sheaf of parchment.

"We've got Defense Against the Dark Arts next," said Hermione, joining the students waiting outside the classroom door.

"What do you think the real Moody is going to be like?" asked Dean Thomas, remembering the exciting classes from the year before.

"Well, from what I can tell, he's even more paranoid than the imposter," said Harry.

Just then Ron elbowed him in the ribs and Harry looked up to see Moody's scarred face.

"Not only am I paranoid, Potter," he growled softly in his gravelly voice, "I'm also still alive. Which is

more than I can say for other contemporaries of my profession."

They gaped at him as he stumped his way to the door and unlocked it. Murmurs followed him inside as he make his way to the teacher's desk at the front of the room. They filed in and took their seats.

He glared around at them all but his magical eye continued to scan the room on its own, checking them out. The whispered murmurs of conversation dwindled under its disconcerting gaze.

Moody spoke distinctly into the silence, "You are all dead."

They goggled at him.

"Not one of you made even the slightest precaution when entering this room. You walked in totally oblivious to potential danger," he said disgustedly. "You've had four years of training and you would't even have lasted four seconds."

If you learn nothing else from my class, you will learn to be CONSTANTLY VIGILANT."

Hermione looked as if she was about to say something but closed her mouth when Ron elbowed her.

"From now on, when you enter my classroom you must be prepared to defend yourselves. For homework, in addition to anything else that might be assigned, you are to prepare a defense from possible attack when you enter the classroom."

Hermione raised her hand as the murmurs wafted around the room. "Please sir, defend ourselves against what?"

Professor Moody's face twisted into a sneer or at least Harry thought so, it was hard to tell.

"Do you expect a Death Eater to politely tell you how he or she is going to attack before he does so? Well I have news for you: They won't and neither will I. It is enough that you have been warned. From now on, you will be graded on whether you survive or not"

"Are you serious?" asked Seamus.

"Of course," said Moody and he looked so forbidding that no one felt inclined to say anything.

"I understand that you have a good grounding in dealing with hostile creatures and some basic knowledge of inimical curses. We will be expanding on that this year but mostly we will be concentrating on artifacts.

But before we get to that, Professor Dumbledore has requested that I teach lessons on trust. I have only one thing to say about trust: DON'T.

Now that we have gotten that out of the way, please open your books to page seven. There you will find a list of the most common classifications of magical artifacts and their characteristics."

He bent and lifted a large box. Opening it, he revealed it to be filled with an amazing assortment of odds and ends. It looked like Moody had filled the box with stuff from Tremain's Treasures and Trash shop.

"In this box are a variety of artifacts. I want you to examine them and classify them as to function."

He handed out the contents of the box and Harry spent the rest of class trying to figure out what it was. It had been green but it was now an orange knobby thing about the size of a baseball. It seemed vaguely metallic and there was a groove running around it. It didn't seem to match any of the pictures or descriptions in the book. Eventually, when he had probed and prodded it in every way he could think of, he took out his wand and poked it gently. Instantly, the thing sprang open as if on a hinge and a cloud of orange dust enveloped him. He began sneezing violently.

"Well I see you have figured out how it works, Potter," said Moody, handing him a handkerchief, "But it would have been better to figure out what it was before triggering it. Use a bubble spell to trap the dust."

Harry tried but he was sneezing too hard to manage it and Hermione had to work the spell for him. Moody sent him outside to clear his head where Ron, Hermione found him after class. By dinner time his sneezing had subsided considerably but he was still sneezing sporadically when the team gathered for evening Quidditch practice.

.

.

Although no one said anything about promises made the night before, they practiced their drills with more determination than they had last practice. When it was too dark to see anymore, they held a strategy session and after coming up with variations on some of their plays, they looked more confident.

"At least if we can't beat the, we'll give them a run for their money," said Fred.

Harry sneezed and his glasses flew off. He hoped he looked more convinced of victory than he felt.

"You bet."

"I think we already did," answered George, bending down to help Harry look for his glasses.

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.

After practice Harry returned to join Ron and Hermione in the common room to work on their homework. The common room was often noisy but the students gathered in clumps. It seemed everyone was discussing either the Quidditch situation or Professor Moody's class.

The Gryffindor fifth years told themselves that they would do better next time and spent a considerable amount of time thinking of what sort of attacks they might have to contend with. Harry, who had gotten a reputation for escaping traps and plots of evil wizards was approached by eager students but he had no better idea than they did about what Moody might have waiting for them. Besides, he was busy with Quidditch. When the enthusiastic Creevy brothers tried to pin him down, refusing to believe that Harry didn't know what Moody was planning, Harry referred them to Ron. He pointed out that Ron had been in almost as many tight spots as he and if it wasn't for Ron he never would have managed.

After that Ron complained that he was being pestered to death but Harry could tell that Ron wasn't as displeased as he let on. For years Ron had been overshadowed by his older brothers so that even though he knew full well that Harry got plenty of misery from his publicity, he couldn't help but feel a bit resentful of all the attention Harry got just by being there. Harry on the other hand was thoroughly sick of it and was only too glad to let Ron field annoying questions for a while.

.

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The next time they entered Moody's class room, they found themselves suddenly mired as if in invisible molasses so thick Harry couldn't even move his wand arm. Moody limped toward him and gently taped them with his wand. A black dot appeared where the wand had touched. Harry could only assume the wand had put a black spot on him a well.

"You area all dead," Moody informed them and limped back toward the front of the room. He waved his wand, releasing the spell and told them to take their seats. "It looks like you all failed the quiz. Unlike real life, you will be given another chance next class. Do better."

.

.

It was a measure of how much Hermione wanted to help, that she took notes for Harry in Professor Bin's class while Harry read "Plays and Ploys". Professor Bins seemed oblivious that Harry was reading from the book in his lap, but then again he was used to his students gazing obliviously at him. He droned on and on about magical historical contracts regardless of the glazed eyes of his audience.

After lunch, Harry again had a blank parchment when Madam Trelawney asked them to take out their dreams diaries and analyze them. Around them Harry could hear excited babble as pairs of students found portents in each other's dreams. Madam Trelawney drifted over to their table trailing filmy scarves but her expression looked considerably less dreamy than usual. She looked at them with disapproval when she saw that Harry's parchment was blank.

"I'm sorry," Harry told her, "I guess I'm still not remembering any dreams."

She looked at him suspiciously through her own owlish glasses.

"It does not do to hide what is coming," she intoned.

Harry just shrugged, "Maybe I'm just not dreaming."

"Well perhaps, we can gain insight from looking into the dreams of someone near you. I believe Ron Weasley is a close companion with whom you share many activities and encounters. Perhaps, by reading his dreams, we will find clues to your fate as well as his."

Ron continued rummaging in his book bag even more frantically and at last admitted, "I think you were right about my losing something. I can't find my homework."

Professor Trelawney frowned.

"I'm afraid I lost my quill too," said Ron.

Trelawney looked even less pleased. All in all, they were glad to leave her stifling room and her disapproving glare.

.

.

They packed up their bags as quickly as possible but still barely made it to their next class in time. It was a long way from the top of the north tower to Hagrid's hut. The others were already gawking around the immense cage. Hagrid beamed with delight as they ran up.

"Seein' how well y'did with the skrewts, I knew y'd like t' try somewhat more advanced."

There was a blood curdling shriek and Harry had an impression of flashing talons and buffeting feathers.

There was an answering shriek from Pansy Parkenson as she flung herself backwards away from the bars.

Hagrid rushed forward. "I tol' you to stand back! They haven't had a chance t' settle in yet. The ladies are a mite nervous."

Ladies?

"Potter," drawled Malfoy, "Hagrid's found a date for you."

Pansy Parkenson guffawed loudly and Harry felt his cheeks flush.

Hagid gave Pansy a hand up but his attention was on the occupants of the cage. Harry couldn't tell how many there were for all the wild flapping of feathers and raucous screeching. There racket was so loud that it took Harry a moment to realize that interspaced between the cacophony were words. They were difficult to make out…standing behind Ron, he could see Ron's ears go pink and a moment later he realized that whatever was in the cage was creaming in the most vile language.

Hagrid bellowed some insults back at them and they settled back into perches. Now Harry could see they looked sort of like colossal vultures with huge black pinions and cruel beaks and talons. But despite of the beak there was something very odd about the head. One of them turned, giving Harry a good view of its profile. Yes, the head had a human shape and the feathers on the back were almost like dirty straggly hair. The neck was long and scrawny but it attacked to the chest that – well Harry could see why Hagrid referred to them as ladies. Whatever they were, they were definitely female.

Hagrid turned back to the class and grinned with boyish excitement.

"Hagrid, what are those?" asked Ron.

"I would think y' might know, being a Quidditch fan, an' all, but I suppose y' don't follow the Holyhead Harpies team. Their mascot is the harpy.

"Those are harpies?" asked Hermione incredulously.

"Yep," Hagrid beamed proudly, misinterpreting disgust for interest. "We're real lucky to have gotten them. The Committee of Magical Games usually doesn't let anyone but the team keep mascots, but they signed a special waver because Professor Dumbledore agreed to keep them locked up during their visit. So, no matter how tempting it might be, y' can't let them out."

"I'll just have to resist temptation," said Malfoy.

Hagrid completely missed the sarcasm. "They're only on loan to us anyway. The Holyhead Harpies keeps a colony and it has gotten a bit large so they were willing to loan us some for a while."

"Well that's good news. At least we know they'll only be here temporarily," Ron said in an undertone.

"Now they're still settling in from their trip and are probably feelin' home sick for their colony, so today we must do what we can to make them feel comfortable. If we're lucky, we'll get t' feed 'em."

"We better break out the best china," said Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle snickered.

"Now," said Hagrid, "They usually live in large colonies and so have to compete for the best perches, food, an' stuff so they are probably missing the noises of home. I want you to talk to them so they'll feel better," Hagrid explained.

Harry was wondering just what one was supposed to say to a large foul-smelling, foul-mouthed, foul-tempered bird when Hagrid went on to explain that since they usually screeched at one another, as they vied for the best nest sites, they should take turns doing that.

"Uh Hagrid, we'll get detentions if we use language like that," Hermione pointed out.

Hagrid looked abashed. He obviously hadn't considered this problem. "Well," he said at last, "Y' don' have t' swear, jus' yell some insults."

Hagrid turned back to the cage and hollered at the occupants, "Move over you mangy, ugly, sissies, I want the best perch!"

They responded with a blast of screeches that fortunately made most of the words unintelligible.

"See? They respect those who defend their position most forcefully and elegantly," said Hagrid pleasantly.

Elegant was not the term that came to mind. One by one, they took turns screaming insults at the Harpies.

Harry felt a bit sorry for Neville, who was very inhibited at shouting rude things at anybody. Hagrid was trying to give him some pointers. The Harpy turned around and deposited a blob of guano to let Neville know what it thought of his paltry insults.

Malfoy sniggered and his side kicks echoed it. This just flustered Neville even more, so that he seemed unable to say anything. Hagrid bent down and tried to encourage him.

Malfoy winked at Crabbe and Goyle and motioned toward the cage. They began to edge toward it. Harry followed, sure they were up to something.

"Uh what are we doing?" asked Goyle as Malfoy surreptitiously took something out of his robes.

"Let's get some on the lock," explained Malfoy looking around. Harry hastily turned his head as if he had been watching Neville all along.

"Why?" asked Goyle?" Malfoy looked exasperated.

"It's some of the shrinking solution from Snape's class. I put in enough banana slug slime to give about a six-hour delay. By then we'll be long gone, so everyone will think Hagrid let them loose."

Malfoy's henchmen chuckled, "Uh, why would we want to let the harpies loose?" Crabbe asked.

"Because," Draco said tightly, "Hagrid will get in trouble for it and maybe they will have to fire him and because Dumbledore signed for them, the Department of Magical Games is going to be upset with Dumbledore. I don't think they would actually fire him, but there's always hope."

Harry moved to follow but the crowd of students was blocking his way. He took out his wand and got ready to curse Malfoy when suddenly he felt something grab him from behind. Goyle had his meaty hooks on him. Harry turned his wand to Goyle. Goyle toppled as Harry's Jelly Legs Curse took effect, pulling Harry down with him. Harry struggled to free himself knowing he would be too late.

"Ron!" he yelled, "Stop Malfoy."

Goyle clapped a hand over Harry's mouth. Harry twisted and pulled on Goyle's arm and squirmed to free himself. He saw Ron use a levitation spell to lift the bottle right out of Malfoy's grasp. The bottle tilted, dumping its contents onto Malfoy's robes.

Malfoy swore so emphatically that all three harpies responded by screeching invectives and flinging filth at him.

"That's it!" said Hagrid warmly, "That's the right idea," he hesitated. "But bearing in mind the school rules about the use of bad language, maybe you should be a bit more circumspect."

Then he noticed Ron and Harry both with their wands out and Goyle trying to get to his feet with wobbly legs.

"I sure hope you weren't using your wands on anyone. I would hate to have to give you a detention…"

Harry was about to explain what Malfoy was doing but changed his mind. As much fun as it would be to get Malfoy in trouble, he would also get a detention for cursing another student and right now he couldn't afford to get a detention and miss Quidditch practice.

He and Malfoy glared at each other but there wasn't anything either of them could do without getting detentions and they were both in the same situation as far as that went. At last Harry shrugged and said he had just tripped. Hagrid glared at Malfoy suspiciously but dismissed the class after giving them a reading assignment about Harpy etiquette for tomorrow's lesson.

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That evening Harry came back from Quidditch practice and flopped down in the spot Seamus made for him on the couch.

"Have you gotten your astronomy calculations done yet?" asked Ron.

Harry had forgotten. They had class tonight.

Hermione looked up from her place at a table littered with books and charts, "I thought you had gotten that done already."

"Well we started it, but we didn't but we didn't exactly finish it. I don't expect you could let us have a peek at the answer do you?"

"No, I could not," she said testily. Then she relented. "Let me see what you've got so far and I'll see what I can do."

Hermione would not of course, give them the answers but she did help them find their errors so eventually they all were able to chart the moonrise and moonset times for the month.

Although Harry usually enjoyed the midnight stargazing classes with Professor Sinister, Harry was so wrapped up in thinking about Quidditch that all he could think about was how he needed this time to sleep so that he would be rested for another dawn Quidditch practice. Ron too, was distracted. Tryouts were set for Friday afternoon and although he didn't want to admit it, Harry could tell he was worried that Tenobia would beat him out.

When Professor Sinister asked a question on moon set, Ron turned to his chart and without thinking, illuminated his wand so he could see better. Immediately, there were cries of protest and disgust as the bright beam of light destroyed their night vision.

The astronomy teacher blew out an impatient breath and said, "Well guess we won't be looking at any faint objects tonight. We might as well make observations on the Triangle and calibrate our instruments. I want a cross check with Deneb, Actarus, and Rigel as well as three other bright stars of your choice."

There were some muffled grumbles as they started on the tedious chore, using their wands to make minute adjustments. Ron apologized but Harry could see that he was getting more and more anxious.

.

.

All though History of Magic the next day, he kept passing notes to Harry and it was only Professor Bins' single-minded concentration on his lecture that kept them from being caught.

Afterwards in Herbology, he only stopped asking Harry about his chances of getting on the team when Professor Sprout set them to working on hushpuffs. These sensitive plants had bulbous pods which would burst at the slightest provocation. They had to wear masks and work in total silence so as not to set them off. It was somewhat of a relief when Professor Spout motioned them to tiptoe out of the greenhouse.

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After lunch they reported to Hagrid's hut and spent the time feeding the harpies. Hagrid had them start by flapping their arms and squawking. Malfoy didn't hesitate to tell them how stupid they looked. To tell the truth, the harpies didn't look particularly impressed by their display either. Hagrid then brought out two huge pails that seemed to be filled with bloody chunks of raw meat and entrails.

"Now you can't just give it to them. You have to convince them that you want it instead. If you don't, they might not consider the food you offer valuable enough. It's a status thing. It tastes better if someone else wants it," Hagrid explained.

He had them pretend to squabble over some of the choicer entrails before they threw it into the cage to the screeching harpies. The way the pecked and slashed at each other, and fought over bits of intestine, Harry wasn't entirely convinced that it would have made any difference if they had yelled at each other first or simply dumped the buckets directly into the cage. Hagrid gazed fondly at his charges. He seemed totally oblivious to the disgusted looks on the students' faces.

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By evening, Ron's nervousness had communicated itself to Harry and long after Ron said, "Well I getter go to bed and get a good night's sleep and all that," and went upstairs Harry found himself pacing the floor in front of the common room fire.

The look Ron gave him as he went up the stairs said it all. Ron was counting on their friendship to get him on the team. Harry had watched anxiously during evening practice as both Ron and Tenobia took turns swatting at the Quaffle. Every time Ron had a turn Harry was reassured that Ron would win the place on the team, but when Tenobia had a turn, Harry couldn't dispel the doubts. The truth was, they were both fairly evenly matched. Ron was counting on his friendship with Harry and having brothers on the team to pull him through.

As Tenobia left the field she didn't say anything, but glared at the way Ron gave Harry a friendly back slap. She looked Harry straight in the eye with a direct gaze that made him feel guilty.

"A fair chance. You gave your word," she reminded him.

He took comfort in the fact that Madam Hooch would be handling tryouts. Even so he could see that he was likely to have someone mad at him. Besides it wasn't as if being on the team was going to be such an honor. Whoever lost was only just saving themselves from being a slave to Slytherin for a week. Harry almost wished he could quit the team to avoid that fate himself.

The clock struck midnight when he heard footsteps on the stairs. At the first glimpse of red hair, Harry thought it was Ron coming down to try and get him to promise him the position but then he saw that it was Ginny.

"Oh, hi Ginny. What are you doing up?" he asked.

"I saw the light on and thought it might be Ron," she said.

"Oh. And are you going to ask me to make sure Ron gets on the team too?" he asked hesitantly.

She looked at him for a while, her face practically expressionless. Then she sat in one of the armchairs and watched the flames for a while.

"Ron really cares about getting on the team," she said at last. "It's really important to him."

Harry nodded, "I know. I hope he makes it."

"But you're afraid he won't?" she asked.

Harry shrugged, "I don't know. It looks about 50=50 to me. It's just that…"

"You're afraid that if Ron doesn't get on the team, it will be the end of your friendship."

"Yeah," said Harry and resumed pacing again. "The thing of it is…Ron really is my friend. Not just a casual acquaintance but the type of friendship that goes way beyond that. I mean could trust Ron with my life." Harry signed again. "Ron would trust me with his life."

"On the other hand, a wizard's word is not casually given. A wizard who breaks his word might as well kiss his career goodbye," she looked at him sideways for a moment. "Do you know why?"

"Because no one trusts him anymore?" Harry guessed.

"Partly. But mostly, because one of the chief ways a wizard works his spells is through the use of words and making his magic flow through those words to make whatever he says happen. A wizard who knows his words are no good cannot make his magic flow through them and his spells are no longer effective."

"How do you know that?" asked Harry.

"My Mum and Dad told me," she said. "When I was little, they caught me fibbing about stealing cookies even though the jar tattled on me. I thought I was going to be punished, but instead they sat me down and tried to make me understand."

Then the same quirky smile Ron made when he was embarrassed appeared. "Though at the time, the only thing I could understand was that I had better put a stronger curse on the jar so I wouldn't get caught the next time. It didn't help; I got caught the very next day." She laughed softly at the memory, "but I never lied about it again."

Harry thought about it. Most of the wizards he thought of as powerful, did seem to be honest with themselves. Even Voldemort, who was as evil as they come, seemed to tell what he believed was the truth. And Lockhart, who had gained his reputation through taking claim for other people's work and lying, his spells always seemed to backfire. Dumbledore could always be counted on to give an honest answer, was the most powerful wizard in his generation.

"So you think that if Ron doesn't make the team, there are some things more important than friendship?" Harry asked.

She shook her head, "All I'm saying it that if Ron doesn't make the team, he will understand. Well, probably not right away, but he will calm down even if it takes a while and he will understand, eventually, I hope. And so will Tenobia if she doesn't make the team, if it's an honest decision."

"I hope you are right. Just the same, I'm glad Madam Hooch is overseeing the tryouts," Harry said staring moodily into the glowing coals of the fire until he began to yawn. "I think I'll turn in now."

Harry rose to his feet, stretched and headed for the stairs.

Ginny, also yawning, shuffled toward the girl's dormitories, "Good night."

Thanks," Harry told her, feeling suddenly awkward.

"No problem and good luck."

.

.

The next morning, Harry actually managed to avoid another death mark from Moody though through no

credit of his own. A flying net whirled toward them as they cautiously entered the classroom and Neville in his excitement, tripped and knocked Harry over so that the net passed over his head. Harry scrambled to safety under the nearest desk as the net tightened around the rest of the class reducing them to a bunch of squirming arms and legs.

Moody stumped across the room and touched his wand to each student's face before waving his wand and releasing them. They fell in a tumbled heap. Moody regarded Harry, who was still taking shelter under the desk with his good eye while the other watched the rest of the class disentangle themselves. Then without saying anything he stumped back to the front of the room and began the lesson.

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By the third Divinations class, when Harry was still turning in blank parchments, Professor Trelawney began to lose patience.

"But you can't still not have had any dreams," she protested.

"Sorry," said Harry meekly, "I just don't remember any."

"Are you sure you are doing the meditation exercises properly?" she asked suspiciously.

"Oh yes," said Harry. Professor Trelawney had made Harry practice every night. I think I'm just too tired to dream."

"Nonsense," said the divination's professor, "Everyone dreams. It is part of the mystery of how the human mind works. If you have been using the meditation techniques you should have remembered at least something."

"I'm sorry, professor. I used the techniques but really I don't remember anything. Maybe I can just practice interpreting other people's dreams," said Harry hopefully.

But Professor Trelawney wasn't satisfied. Harry very strongly suspected that the whole reason the class was studying dreams in the first place was the peculiar incident that had happened last year. She leaned forward so that her glasses magnified her eyes and rubbed her hands, making her look more like a bejeweled preying mantis than ever.

"You are holding back, Potter," her voice seemed to have lost its usual mistiness. "There are serious consequences for a student that lies to a teacher at Hogwarts."

Ron came to Harry's rescue. "He's not lying, Professor, I swear."

Professor Trelawney blinked and then turned toward Ron, her bracelets dangling softly in the firelight. "And how could you know that? Have you looked into Potter's head while he sleeps?"

Lavender Brown covered her mouth and tittered.

"Of course I can't," replied Ron with righteous anger. "I know Harry hasn't had any dreams because he has a dream catcher."

A look of triumph and anger warred with each other on Sybil Trelawney's face. "A dream catcher! Surely you would know you are not allowed to use such a dangerous device to deliberately thwart my class. Conniving to get out of doing homework!" Her thin frame seemed to loom menacingly.

Dangerous?

"Please, Professor," said Harry, "Professor Dumbledore said I should use it."

That seemed to stop her in her tracks. "Professor Dumbledore said you should use it?"

Well at least he knew about it, which wasn't exactly the same thing. "I got a letter from him over the summer."

"You mean you've been using it since then?" she asked incredulously, "Prolonged use is very unhealthy."

Harry was growing a bit more uneasy. He was not sure if this was another one of Professor Trelawney's morbid predictions or not.

"I will speak to the headmaster about this," she said not at all like her usual misty voice. She kept eyeing him in a disconcerting way for the rest of the class.

.

.

During Herbology, Harry could almost visibly see Ron's tension mounting. Harry tried to reassure him by telling him that waiting was the worst part. Hermione kept urging him to go to see Madam Pomfrey about his stomach which was being affected by nerves. But this wasn't much of a help because Ron was scheduled to see Madam Pomfrey for a physical before tryouts anyway and he wasn't going to admit to a stomachache for a cauldron of galleons. He was so distracted that he grafted a cactus to his robes.

Professor Sprout eventually gave him some dragonmint leaves which soothed his stomach and sent him for his physical before it wore off.

.

.

That afternoon Madam Hooch watched Ron and Tenobia fly around the pitch demonstrating their abilities to catch and block Quaffles, hit Bludgers and use a broomstick. Harry watched them, grateful that the decision would be made by Madam Hooch and not by him. At last she called them to ground.

"Wait over there," she indicated that they should take a seat in the stands. Then she waved Harry and the rest of the team over. They assembled about her impatiently.

"Well?" asked Harry breaking the suspense, "Who's going to be the new Keeper?"

Madam Hooch looked at him quizzically. "That's for you to decide, Potter."

Harry goggled at her, stunned.

Madam Hooch looked annoyed. "Come now, surely you knew?" I test all potential Quidditch players to make sure they have the basic skills, just as Madam Pomfrey checked them out to see if they were up for the rigors of the game. The team decides who is to join out of the candidates I approve of. Of course there usually is a clear winner after I put them through their paces. In cases like this, it is up to the team. The team captain makes the final decision."

Madam Hooch waved her wand and the brooms picked themselves up and began herding the Bludgers and Quaffle back into the box. Madam Hooch then strapped down the Bludgers still trying to make a break for it, locked the box and gathered up the brooms. She left the field and Harry who was still vainly trying to gather his wits. Harry looked around at his teammates.

"Well they are both pretty good,' said Angelina hesitantly.

"You know how we feel," said Fred. "Ron's our brother."

"But we'll still support whatever decision you make," said George.

"Of course, both of them were using school brooms. It might be different if they were riding their own brooms," Katie said.

Yeah, though Harry to himself. Nobody was going to say it but Ron wasn't going to be able to afford a decent broom and Tenobia probably was.

"Tenobia might be the better overall player, perhaps but I think Ron might have the edge on blocking the Quaffle," said Alicia.

"You're the captain, we'll go with whoever you say," said Angelina glancing toward Fred.

Harry looked over to where Ron and Tenobia were waiting. He could tell they were looking at him even

if they were too far away to see their expression. Now Harry wished with all his heart that he had turned down the captaincy. Then someone else could decide. He had promised Tenobia a fair chance but Ron was his friend.

"You better decide now," said Angelina, "There's not much time. Whoever you pick is going to have only two weeks to learn all our old moves, much less the new ones."

"Ron, you're the new Gryffindor Keeper," Harry announced. An expression of joy, relief, and wonder lit Ron's face. He raised both fists in the air and whooped as his brothers pounded him on the back.

"Welcome to the team."

"Tenobia…" Harry began.

Tenobia on the other hand glared furiously. Harry hadn't been expecting her to be pleased but he was unprepared for the explosion of profanity that burst from the innocent looking girl. She stamped her feet, flinging her pigtails about in rage.

"I knew it! I knew it!" she screamed, "You told me I had a fair chance, but all along you were just playing with me. Having a bit of fun with the new kid."

She flung the Shooting Star she was holding to the ground so hard it bounced up to head-height and fled the field.

Harry and the others stared after her with open mouths, momentarily stunned by the shear vindictiveness and invectiveness of the outburst. Harry instinctively caught the Shooting Star on its way down.

He glanced at the others and shrugged, "I guess I had better talk to her." He mounted the broom and sped after her.

She had almost reached the castle by the time Harry caught up with her. He moved to cut her off from the doors. She glared at him. Her face was red. She wiped angrily at the tears that leaked down her face and turned to the castle wall.

"Go away!" she snarled.

"Tenobia," Harry called, "Wait. I need to talk to you."

She came to place where the castle wall jutted out again. Harry moved to block her again.

Finding herself trapped she yelled at Harry "Just leave me alone!"

"Tenobia, please, listen to me," Harry urged. He let the broom drop until his toes were trailing in the weeds, but didn't dismount in case she bolted again. His shoes brushed the weeds as he drifted closer.

Tenobia turned and glared at him as if her gaze alone could turn him to stone like a basilisk.

"You told me. You told me I had a fair chance of making the team. And all the time you were just stringing me along. You picked Ron Weasley because his brothers are on the team and he's your friend," she shouted.

"Yeah," said Harry frankly, "In part."

Tenobia stood stock-still and goggled at him as if she were the one who had been turned to stone. She obviously expected Harry was going to deny the charges. Harry suppressed the urge to smile. He reminded himself that it wasn't funny, really. It was just that she looked like a furious kitten that had gotten a bucket of water dumped on its head.

"But not for the reasons you think," Harry hastily went on before she could recover. "It's a matter of time. Our first game is in two weeks and with sharing practice time with the Slytherins, it is really more like one week. That's not enough time to teach someone to learn our old plays, much less work on new ones for the game.

Ron's been playing with his brothers practically all his life and the rest of us have been together as a team for over four years. Ron couldn't help but learn something about how we work together when he was practicing with his brothers this summer. Maybe if we had the usual month or more, things would have been different. But don't you see, we've got to have someone who's already familiar with the way the team plays."

Tenobia still looked as if she could chew rocks but at least she was listening.

"You said it yourself; it's not very likely that I'm going to catch the Snitch. The only chance we've got is if we can score enough points so that it doesn't matter if Malfoy gets the Snitch or not. The only way that's going to happen is if we work together like a team with precision maneuvers and a flexible strategy that is only possible when the team members know each other well enough to anticipate what they need to do."

Tenobia didn't say anything for a long while but at lat she nodded reluctantly. "Well, at least my Mum will be happy," she said, trying rather unsuccessfully to hide her disappointment.

"Your mother doesn't want you to play Quidditch?" Harry asked. It seemed like every witch and wizard he met was crazy about Quidditch.

"On account of her Da. To everyone else he was this famous daring Quidditch star, but to her he was her father. Quidditch kept him away from her a lot and when he was finally killed, even though it was in vacation in Greece, well, let's just say she never attended a game since. If it wasn't for my Da's old mates, I never would have gotten on a broomstick. I used to have to sneak out to see them. Well eventually my mother found out."

She gave a short bark of laugher. "Let's just say it wasn't a pretty sight and leave it at that. To make a long story short, eventually she agreed to let me play as long as I didn't try any of the really dangerous things my grandfather was famous for. Mom still wasn't happy about it, but I wasn't going to let it stop me." She lifted her chin defiantly as if daring him to forbid her to play.

Well at least she was talking and not screaming. Harry decided it was better to keep it that way.

"I know what you mean. I grew up with Muggles who hate magic and anything to do with it utterly. They wouldn't even let me say the word 'magic'. I used to have to wait until they were asleep to do my homework."

"I wasn't going to let them stand in my way," she said as if agreeing with him. "I thought that I was going to win a place on the team through my own skills. And to think I could have had a place on the team if I had just told everyone who was grandfather was," she said bitterly, angrily dashing tears from her flaming cheeks.

"Your grandfather?" Harry asked trying to suppress his annoyance. He was probably some important big shot who pushed his big name around to get to what he wanted.

She used a few more colorful invectives that colored Harry's cheeks.

"You really say what's on your mind, no matter who it is," said Harry awkwardly. He thought about how she had stood up to Malfoy that first practice session. "I don't know of any other first year that would have stood up to a fifth year and a Quidditch captain at that."

She kicked a clump of grass. "Well I just can't stand it when people think that they're so great just because of what their bloodline is. That Draco and his cronies. They are so smug, going around thinking they are so great because of who their dad and mum are. It really burns me up."

"Yeah, well just the same, you'd better watch what you say. Some of the professors are likely to take a pretty dim view of foul language. Except for Hagrid's harpies, I guess," Harry warned.

"Well where I come from you have to talk tough or they'll just stomp all over you," she said.

"Where do you come from?" asked Harry.

She shrugged. "Here and there. I did a lot of moving around. When you are always the new kid on the block, you have to let everyone know right away that you're not an easy mark."

"You mentioned your grandfather, what does your grandfather have to do with your getting on the Quidditch team?"

"My full name is Tenobia Llewelyn Wells. The middle name is my grandfather's surname," she said it as if dropping a small bomb.

Harry looked at her, waiting. She sighed with exasperation. "His name is Llewelyn….as in Dai Llewelyn."

The name clicked. Harry remembered reading about him in "Quidditch through the Ages" and "He Flew like a Madman". 'Dangerous Dai Llewelyn' was arguably the best Seeker of all time. No wonder she had such a low opinion of his Quidditch skills. His grip slipped on the broomstick and his feet thumped onto the lawn.

"Now don't you go all goggled-eyed on me," she said. "I thought you of all people would understand that being famous isn't everything – or having famous parents or grandparents either."

"Sorry." Harry apologized.

"All my life I keep hearing stories about how great my grandfather was, but to me he was just Da Dai who'd toss me into the air and tickle me.

A lot of people used to look down on my mum and me because she married a Muggle. My dad died when I was young –Mum won't talk about it- so I barely remember him. But I do remember hearing people saying that it served Mum right for marrying a Muggle. Mum was furious. She packed up and we never saw most of my relatives and friends again. We couldn't go to my dad's relatives, of course. Apparently my father had burnt a few bridges when he married Mum and they thought of Mum about the same way my mother's relatives thought about them."

My mother had to make her own way and it wasn't easy with a kid in tow. I don't know what we would have done if it weren't for Da Dai. He didn't give a hoot mon what anyone said and he helped us out. But he moved around a lot and that meant so did we. If it wasn't for Da Da, there's no way Mum would have been able to send me to Hogwarts."

Harry was thinking, no wonder she went around as if she had a chip on her shoulder.

"Oh hey, don't tell anyone about who my da was will you? For the first time since Harry had met her she seemed nervous. He could understand; if there was any way he could have made everyone forget his famous scar he would have jumped at it.

"Don't worry. That's your business as far as I'm concerned. Besides Ron may be Keeper but I didn't say you weren't on the team," Harry went on before she added anything more.

"What?"

"I think Ron has the edge in playing Keeper, but you are probably the better all-around player. You could probably play any position if you had to. That will make you the ideal person to have around as a substitute. We've had problems before; injuries and stuff and we realized that we really need to have someone as a back-up. In fact one of the players told us she was going to need someone later in the year. You will also have first pick of most of the positions you want to play next year. That is if you will join us. But for now I think we should keep it under wraps so that you don't have to worry about scrubbing Slytherin's common room."

Tenobia's face positively lit up. Her smile seemed almost too big for her face. For once she seemed to be at a loss for words. She thrust out her hand and Harry shook it.


	12. Picked out of a Hat

**Dear Readers, **

**Thank you for your patience. I took a temporary break to catch up on other writing that I was behind on. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

* * *

Chapter 12 Picked Out of a Hat

Harry was not exactly surprised when right after dinner Professor McGonagall approached him. "Potter, come with me. Professor Dumbledore would like to see you."

Harry gave Hermione and Ron a hasty goodbye. Ron waved absentmindedly, busy basking in the congratulations of the rest of the Gryffindors. He seemed oblivious that half of the accolades were actually sympathetic condolences.

"Uh, Professor?" asked Harry hesitantly, "Did Professor Dumbledore say what he wanted to talk to me about?"

"No, Potter. I was just asked to bring you to his office." She looked at him suspiciously. "How is Quidditch training going?"

"We've been working hard, Professor," Harry reassured her. He must know about all the rumors of impending defeat.

They walked in silence for a while, then Professor McGonagall asked, "How do you think Ron Weasley is going to work out as Keeper?"

"Pretty well, Professor McGonagall. He's not the same as Wood, if that is what you are asking, but he's getting better every day. We all are."

The transfiguration teacher paused and went on hesitantly, "Ms. Wells approached me with an accusation of favoritism yesterday. She said that if Ronald Weasley made the team it would only because his brothers were on the team and because he is your friend."

"Ron made the team fair and square, Professor. Tenobia Wells is a good player; one of the best overall players I've ever seen. She could play almost any position but I think Ron has the edge in playing Keeper. Also, it is a matter of time. The only way we are going to pull this off is if we coordinate together. Ron is the best person now. If there was more time, perhaps it would be different."

McGonagall nodded, "I told her that the team would not stoop to nepotism but I know the value of friendship."

"Besides, it isn't as if she didn't exactly make the team," continued Harry, "A team member told me," Harry stopped himself from mentioning Alicia by name in case McGonagall decided that school work was more important than Quidditch, "that it might be necessary to put more time into studying for exams later in the year and we might need a substitute."

McGonagall looked at him, "Well I'm glad to hear that someone is thinking about learning something," she said sourly. "If that is the case, then why isn't she on the team roster?"

"Well, if she is not going to play in the first game, so there's no point in providing the Slytherins with another house elf, just in case, is there?"

Harry wasn't sure what Professor McGonagall would do. She was awfully strict about things sometimes.

"She didn't even agree to take the bet in the first place. It wouldn't be fair to make her," Harry put in.

"I see," the professor's lips twitched and Harry breathed an inward sigh of relief. "But it is not going to

matter anyway because Gryffindor is going to win," she said it with such finality, that Harry didn't dare voice his opinion that the outcome of the game was still very much in doubt.

They arrived at the gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's private office.

"Chocolate hogs," said McGonagall and the gargoyle sprung aside revealing a spiral escalator. To his surprise McGonagall did not accompany him, but said, "Well I'm glad we got that cleared up anyway," She gestured to the entrance and turned and walked away.

Harry entered Dumbledore's circular office. There were the usual cabinets and shelves filled with curious objects and the portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses dozing on the walls. Dumbledore was seated behind his desk. He looked up when Harry walked in.

"Ah, yes, Potter, thank you for coming. Please sit while I finish this letter."

Harry sat down and listened to the sound of Dumbledore's quill scratching the parchment as he considered why the headmaster might have asked to see him. Harry noticed the Sorting Hat sitting next to Dumbledore's elbow along with a large stack of correspondence. Harry looked around for Faux, but the phoenix's perch was empty.

"Thank you for waiting, Harry," said Dumbledore, blowing on the ink to dry it before carefully folding it.

He set the parchment aside and gazed at Harry over his half moon spectacles. Harry made himself sit still under the wizard' penetrating stare.

"Is this about Professor Trelawney?" Harry asked, shifting in his chair.

"In part. Since you bring it up, let's start with that. Professor Trelawney informed me that you are deliberately using a device to interfere with required class work. When Sirius wrote to me about sending you a dream catcher for your birthday, I was under the impression that you understood that it is not meant for continuous use."

"Is it dangerous, sir?" Harry asked feeling a bit alarmed.

"The mind is an amazing thing. Even wizards who devote their lives to its study cannot know all its workings. Exactly what part dreams play in the ordering of our minds we don't know. When Sirius told me about your nightmares and guessed that you were having trouble sleeping, we thought a few nights peace would do you some good, but continual use of the dream catcher might prevent your mind from processing what you have experience and dealing with it."

Harry didn't say anything. He had found it a great comfort to go to sleep and not have to worry about nightmares.

"I am going to forbid you to use the dream catcher for the time being."

"But sir, if Professor Trelawney hears about my dreams, everyone is going to think I'm crazy."

"No more so than anybody else. I know certain members of my staff do not put much trust in the Divining Arts, but interpreting dreams can give you useful insight into understanding yourself."

"I don't have a problem understanding my dreams. What happened last year is enough to give anyone nightmares. I'd rather not keep dreaming about it, okay?" his voice was rising.

"It might even interfere with your sleep and make you irritable," Dumbledore said mildly.

"I'm not irritable," said Harry angrily.

"I am also aware of the special nature of some of your dreams. It might be unwise to avoid them."

Harry wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to keep a hold on himself and stop shouting. He took a deep breath before speaking. "It is especially those dreams, that I don't want to blab to everyone in class," said Harry in forced calm.

Dumbledore was quite a moment then he said thoughtfully, "Well, I can see your point. It would be better not to let Voldemort's supporters know we have a source of information about his plans."

Harry swallowed hard, "Voldemort's supporters, sir? Do you think there is another Death Eater at Hogwarts?"

"Probably not a Death Eater and probably not in Hogwarts. But a rumor has a way of getting around and I wouldn't be at all surprised if Voldermort had some eyes and ears in Hogsmead. It would only take someone who could be intimidated to pass information along."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful again. Then he turned his eyes back to Harry and watched him for a moment. "Harry, can you tell when your dreams are more than just dreams?"

"I think so," Harry admitted reluctantly, "Maybe."

Dumbledore regarded him shrewdly, "Have you had one of those dreams recently?"

Harry nodded. "I'm not sure, but it seemed familiar like I'd been there before. It seemed to be in the same place as the dream last summer: this spooky mansion. I can't shake the feeling that I've seen it before, but I can't seem to remember."

Dumbledore prodded Harry with questions and Harry tried to remember details. Harry was reluctant to tell the old wizard that he suspected the disguised wizard was Snape.

"Severus is not a Death Eater," Dumbledore said flatly, "What makes you so sure it was more than just a dream? Is it possible that you were influenced by your lesson?"

Harry had to admit that there was no proof that the disguised wizard was Snape. Only a feeling.

"Do you think that it was all just made up then?" Harry asked uncertainly.

Dumbledore was quiet for a time then he nodded, "No I do believe that you are telling me about events that have actually happened. This confirms what my sources have told me. Did you hear anything that might indicate what plans Voldemort might have?"

"No, only that he said, 'Dumbledore can't be everywhere,'. Do you think Voldemort's going to try and kill the Minister of Magic again?"

"I don't know," Dumbledore looked very grave. "I'm not even sure the accident involved the MOM car was anything more than an accident. I tried to urge Minister Fudge to take precautions but of course he refused, saying that I was alarming people for nothing. I sent word by Arthur Weasley to certain Ministry members to keep watch. We were never able to prove anything about the accident but Alister Moody doesn't believe in coincidences and frankly I'm suspicious too."

Since the accident, however, Cornelius Fudge has become convinced that it was an attack although he perversely refuses to consider that Voldemort might be the source. Lately he has been hiring body guards. I've heard he's been using McNair for occasions when he can't use Dementors."

"But McNair is a Death Eater!" Harry gasped.

"I have told him," said Dumbledore, "But there is no proof apart from your story which Fudge refuses to believe. In fact, he takes the fact that there have been no further incidents, as proof that McNair is trustworthy. He no longer answers my owls."

"But with McNair as a body guard, Fudge won't stand a chance!" said Harry.

"Exactly. Which is why I suspect that Fudge is not Voldemort's target. Why should he want to kill Fudge? Fudge with his blind refusal to accept Voldemort's return and is playing right into the Dark Lord's hands. Wasting precious time while Voldemort gathers strength. Fudges's assassination might shake the wizarding world by showing Voldemort can strike at the heart of our government with impunity but", Dumbledore watched Harry over his half moon glasses, "I suspect that you are his target. It is you that he has tried to kill over and over."

"Sir, years ago I asked you why Voldemort wanted to kill me. How could I possibly threaten him?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore sighed and looked pained. "Even if that reasons did not exist, Voldemort still has plenty of reasons to seek your death. His followers might view his repeated failures as a sign that Voldemort is not as all-powerful as they thought. It is fear that keeps his followers, supporters and even his enemies in line. By merely continuing to exist, you defy him and all his Dark Arts and show there is hope for others who may oppose him."

"I guess I already knew that. I guess I just hadn't thought about it quite that way before," sighed Harry.

"I really wish I knew what they were planning. Or even what they had tried and failed. Do you have any idea as to what it could have been?"

"No, nothing happened that could have been an attempt at murder unless they planned to start the riot at Gringots and do me in during the confusion. But that is risky. How would they know I'd be there anyway. The crowd broke up as soon as the Magical Law Enforcement squad arrived."

"I agree it doesn't seem a good way to plan a murder. The last dream you had on Privet Drive, you said they were talking about poisoning someone or possibly not poisoning someone. I wish I knew what that was about."

"I rather wish I know myself," said Harry hoping his voice didn't shake.

Dumbledore sighed again, "Well the only think we can do is to try to keep you safe. So for now, you should stay on Hogwarts' grounds. I don't want you going to Hogsmead for the time being. You are to do your homework for Professor Trelawney's class and are to cease using the dream catcher. If you have a dream that you suspect it a True Dream, do not report it to Professor Trelawney but to me."

Harry nodded glumly. He should have expected it.

"I also wish to talk to you about the matter of the Quidditch bet." Dumbledore looked even less friendly and Harry resisted the urge to squirm in his seat. "I cannot help but be aware of a sort of tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses. Perhaps a friendly game of Quidditch is the best way to clear the air. However, I do not approve of betting," he said sternly.

Harry nodded, "Madam Hooch already told me."

"If members of my staff were not involved, I might consider forbidding the wager. However since you have engaged in a magically binding contract, there is little I can do. The consequences of trying to break a magical contract are usually worse than merely paying off the lost bet. I would have thought that you understood that when you were forced to compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament even though you did not submit your name."

Harry nodded again feeling terrible about disappointing Dumbledore, "I'm sorry sir."

The headmaster sighed, "Well there's nothing I can do about it now, except to go through with it. I'm going to give you the same warning I gave Malfoy. Do not attempt to cheat or trick; magical contracts will hold you to your terms and there is little I can do to save you from whatever horrible consequences manifest themselves as a result of trying to cheat. For your own safety, you must make sure that every member of your team understands that this is to be a clean game."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed, "I'll make sure everyone knows."

The headmaster continued to gaze at him and Harry wondered if he was dismissed or not. He glanced around the room and saw that a few of the portraits had woken up and were looking at him sleepily.

He had just decided it was time to leave when Dumbledore said, "Wait a moment, Harry. I have something for you."

The twinkle was back in his eyes. The headmaster reached beside him and picked up the Sorting Hat and handed it to Harry. Harry blinked at it in surprise. Did the headmaster want him to try it on?

"You know of course, that the Sorting Hat is a magical device used to sort students into their houses. It has been doing this for about a thousand years. The cloth from which it was made is even older. There is a great deal about its workings that I do not know. From time to time, the Hat will ask to see a student or even to be given to one for a short period of time."

Harry stared at the hat. Looked at Dumbledore and then tentatively place it on his head.

He heard inside his head the vague mumbling voice of the hat, "Ah yes, Potter. I wanted to see you," it said and then went silent.

"Uh see me about what?" Harry asked. But there was no further communications from the hat. After a bit he took off again. "It just said it wanted to see me," Harry told Dumbledore, puzzled, "but it wouldn't say what about."

Dumbledore nodded, "yes, that was all it would tell me. When I was a student at Hogwarts a long time ago, it asked to see me as well. Never told me what it was all about then either. You must go and take it back to your room until it asks to be returned. Maybe it will tell you more than it told me." His eyes twinkled more than ever. "It is probably a good idea not to tell too many people about it, Dumbledore cautioned, "keep it safe."

Dumbledore rose from his desk, picked up the not dried parchment, and folded it into an envelope.

"Well that is all, Potter," he said dismissing Harry.

Picking up the Sorting Hat, Harry left to take it back to Gryffindor tower.

He found Ron and Hermione in the corner of the common room. Hermione was coaching Ron with his charms homework.

"Ron, it's more like this-sort of a sideways movement. But if you go too far it turns too blue and then becomes so sensitive even a passing beetle will set it off."

Ron waved his wand at a clear shard on the table in front of him and pronounced, "Aegis Barrierius".

The glass took on a turquoise color. Harry sat down and a thin wailing came from the crystal. Hermione tapped it with her wand and the noise stopped.

"Well that's progress, of a sort," said Ron, "What's up?"

Harry looked around the common room. But in spite of the noise from Ron's attempts to make a ward, the few people in the common room seemed intent on their own business.

"McGonagall got me after dinner. She said Dumbledore wanted to see me. He forbade me to use the dream catcher again so I'm going to have to do my work for Trelawney," he sighed.

Hermione snorted. She had a low opinion of Divinations and an even lower opinion of the way Harry and Ron usually did their homework by just making it all up.

"He also warned me about trying to cheat with the binding spell on the Quidditch bet."

"He's right, it could be very dangerous. Professor Bins said that there was this guy who thought he could get of things by pushing this rock up a hill but the spell backfired on him so that every time he thought he was just about to make it, the rock would roll back down again."

"Why didn't he just stop trying to roll the rock?" asked Ron.

"That's the point. The curse wouldn't let him. He had to keep trying forever," Hermione shuddered.

"Yeah, well it is the Slyterins who are going to have to worry about it if they try to jinx a broom," said Ron.

"And…"Harry took another look around to make sure no one was watching, "he gave me this."

Harry pulled the lapel of his robes open and showed them. They gasped.

"Harry, that's to Sorting Hat!"

"Shh…" cautioned Harry. "I know."

"But why did Dumbledore give you that?" asked Hermione.

Harry explained what Dumbledore had said. They each took a turn trying on the hat, but the hat refused to say anything more to any of them. Harry went upstairs and put the hat in his trunk. Then he dug out his own glass shard and book bag and joined Hermione and Ron.

Over the weekend Harry tried the Sorting Hat on several times, but other than some vague humming, the hat had nothing to say to him, except once when Harry was wondering if it was all some sort of mistake and if he should return the hat to the headmaster.

Dumbledore told him that Harry should keep him until the hat asked to be returned. Then the hat refused to give Harry the slightest clue on why it had asked to see him in the first place. Harry continued to put it on every now and then but no matter how many times he asked, the hat still refused to tell him.

On Sunday evening, when Harry was again listening to the hat mumble a few snatches of song when a voice spoke, "The Great Harry Potter is called!"

Harry jumped but in the next instant he realized that the squeaky voice didn't belong to the Sorting Hat.

"Dobby! Don't do that!" gasped Harry turning around to see the house elf's goggled-eyed face.

"Forgive poor Dobby for disturbing Harry Potter," said Dobby bowing obsequiously, "I shouldn't have disturbed your meditations, but Miss Granger asked me to come and get you."

The little figure looked so mortified at having to bother him that Harry quickly tried to reassure him that he wasn't interrupting anything.

"But you were communing with the illustrious headmaster's Sorting Hat."

"Not really," admitted Harry ruefully. A sudden thought occurred to him, "Dobby, do you know anything about the Sorting Hat? It asked to see me, but it won't explain anything."

Dobby looked impressed.

"Sorting Hat is very powerful magic. Dobby is no knowing why Hat asked to see you but it is great honor. Harry Potter is very great person," the diminutive elf began bowing reverently. Harry begged him to stop, which the elf reluctantly did.

"Dobby what did you want to see me about?"

The elf spring to his feet, face aglow. "Oh yes, Miss Granger says 'come to the kitchen' she has found a way to help my Winky!"

He pranced around the room as Harry pulled a robe over his pajamas. Ron was already waiting in the common room.

"Do you think we should get the invisibility cloak?" asked Harry.

"Dobby will make sure Ron and Harry are not being seen," Dobby assured them

"And Ginny agreed to play lookout," Ron added.

"Are you sure you don't want to trade places and you stay?" Ginny offered.

Ron shook his head. "The only way I can get into more trouble if we are caught is if I let get caught instead of me."

"Well good luck, then," she waived as they followed Dobby out the portrait hole.

He led them unerringly to the kitchen entrance. A large painting of a bowl of fruit protected it. Dobby reached up and tickled a pear. It giggled and turned into a doorknob which opened easily to admit them.

The kitchen was sparkling. Elves moved about, wiping gleaming surfaces and polishing shiny utensils.

Hermione, and Winky were waiting for them by the hearth. Winky had been in a dismal state the last time Harry had seen her. Her cheeks seemed to lack the rose glow evident in Dobby's hopeful face and she seemed to have lost some weight but she sat erect on her stool and her eyes looked clear and alert. Her clothes were patched and carelessly worn but they were clean. A house elf bounded up offering them cups of tea and pastries.

"Hello Winky, how are you doing?" asked Harry.

"Winky is better now that she is going to be in family again," Winky answered in her piping voice.

Harry looked at Hermione. "Have you worked out a contract?"

"Yes, it is all here," she showed them a rolled parchment but she didn't look to happy. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked Winky, "You really will be better off here at Hogwarts."

"Dobby wishes you would stay," put in the elf eanestly.

"Thank you, but my mind is made up," Winky said, her squeaky voice filled with resolution.

"This is a temporary contract. You can leave at anytime if you are not being treated well. You don't even have to tell Mr. Malfoy anything; you can just go."

Winky nodded, "But I don't have to do I?" she asked.

"No, the choice is up to you, not the Malfoys. Remember Dobby, Professor Dumbledore and us are waiting for you at Hogwarts if you want to come back," Ginny told her.

"And no one will be knowing Winky is not regular house elf?" asked Winky anxiously.

"No one but you and Lucius Malfoy, need ever know. Mr. Malfoy is no more eager to have that known that you are."

Winky nodded reassured.

"Are you sure there are no loop holes Malfoy can use to trap her?" Ron asked. "He's sneaky; I wouldn't put anything past him."

"Well this one is air-tight. If he signs it, it will be binding. I even asked Percy to look it over."

"Percy?" asked Ron, shocked. "He was so enamored with Crouch that he didn't seem to care what happened to Winky."

"Can you think of anyone who would go over a contract looking for loopholes with a much devotion to petty detail?" Hermione countered.

"No," admitted Ron, "Percy just loves to swim in rules, regulations, and legalese."

"You don't have to do it, Winky," urged Hermione again, "If you only gave it a real try, I'm sure you would find being a free elf is better."

"No," Winky said firmly. "I know you are trying to help. You are good to Winky but Winky wants to be respectable again. Give me the contract. Winky will sign now."

Dobby's huge eyes filled with tears which spilled down his face and splashed over his plaid skirt. "Dobby will miss Winky. You must come back to Dobby."

For the first time Winky looked like she might be hesitating, but then her tiny face took on a determined look. "Winky will come and visit Dobby sometimes and Dobby can come to see Winky on his day off," she declared.

They urged her again to reconsider but Winky had made up her mind. She stood and straightened her blouse and smoothed her skirt. "Winky go now. Winky sign."

Dobby reached out and took Winky's hand and gave her a watery smile through the tears that were leaking down his face. "Dobby wants Winky to stay at Hogwarts as free elf, but Dobby wants more that Winky should be happy." His declaration of love was somewhat spoiled when pulled a tie-dyed handkerchief from his pocket and loudly blew his nose.

Winky smiled, "Okay, we go now,"

"Go where?" asked Ron.

"To Hogsmead to sign contract," said Winky. "Arrangements already made. He is waiting, we must go now." She looked at them expectantly.

"You mean Mr. Malfoy is waiting for you in Hogsmead, now?" asked Harry.

"Waiting for you, too," said Dobby, "Harry Potter must go too and Miss Granger and Mr. Weezy."

"What?!" said Ron and Harry.

"The contract must be witnessed," said Hermione miserably. "It is necessary to make sure that the signature is genuine so the contract will be binding on Malfoy. I don't trust him not to try to find some way of deceiving Winky."

"Dobby wants Miss Hermione to witness and Mr. Ron and Mr. Potter," explained Dobby. "Dobby trusts you," he beamed adoringly up at them.

"We can't go to Hogsmead now," said Ron, "We'll get into trouble."

"Harry isn't allowed to leave Hogwarts at all," said Hermione.

"Then I go and sign without having witnesses," declared Winky.

"Please, you must be going, too," begged Dobby tears refilling his eyes, "Dobby must know his Winky is safe."

The three humans looked at each other. Then Harry shrugged and turned back to Dobby. He nodded,

"Okay, but how are we going to get there?"

Dobby threw his arms around Harry's knees crying his gratitude, then he embraced Ron and Hermione's knees as well.

So Harry found himself following the two house elves down the corridor to the statue of the hag on the second floor. He tapped the hag's hump with his wand and whispered 'Disendium'.

A passageway just big enough for them to squeeze through opened up and they went down into the secret passageway that led to Hogsmead." As they made their way through the narrow tunnel, Harry began to wish he had brought the invisibility cloak, after all, or even a sweater for that matter as the air became chilled and damp.

It seemed a long time before they reached the trap door that lead up from Honeyduke's Sweet Shop. Dobby gestured and the trap door lifted silently. Harry was reminded that house elves had powerful magic of their own. He just hoped it was powerful enough to help them sneak out and the back into Honeydukes without being discovered.

"Don't worry, Harry Potter, house elves are good at not being noticed when we don't want to be. You stay with Winky and Dobby and you not be noticed too." There was nothing to do but trust the house elves in this matter. Dobby did seem confident as he led them out of the cellar, into the shop and out the door without so much as causing the bells over the door to chime.

Harry looked down the street, "Where is Mr. Malfoy?" he asked.

"My new master is meeting us in the Hogshead," said Winy leading the way.

They came to a pub with dull lights and the sound of rough voices drifting out into the night. Harry had been in The Three Broomsticks on a number of occasions but this pub was different. Madam Rosemerta made sure her place was warm and cheerful and made customers feel welcome. Harry recalled that Hagrid had visited the Hogshead and had told them that they 'get all types there'. That certainly seed to be true as no questions were asked. Hagrid had not told them that it was a far rougher place.

The customers looked up briefly from whatever they were drinking and glared suspiciously at the party as they entered. They sat a scared tables hunched over cards, dice, drinks, and dubious conversations. Most were so wrapped in such nondescript clothing that Harry could not even tell who was human or not. He was quite certain that some of them definitely were not. The bartender leaned over a grimy counter and sniffed at them. Either he had goblin blood in him or had been involved in some terrible accident.

"You here to see Mr. Malfoy?" he grunted.

"Yes," said harry knowing he looked very out of place and sounding very nervous.

"There," Grunted the bartender again and he pointed toward a door leading to a back room.

They looked at each other but it was Winky who took matters into her own hands and stepped off to where the bartender had indicated. The rest of them followed. Harry could feel the eyes of the other patrons sliding off him as they passed. No one said anything.

The back room was dimly lit by a tallow candle stuck into the center of a rough table. At the table, dressed in good quality robes that seemed out of place in the seedy surroundings, was Lucius Malfoy. Next to him sat a hunched cloaked figure drinking from a tankard.

"You have the contract?" Malfoy asked looking at them with thinly veiled contempt.

"Yes," said Hermione setting the roll of parchment onto the table.

Mr. Malfoy picked it up and unrolled it. He read it carefully and then turned and handed it to the man sitting next to him. "I hope you don't mind, but I brought my own exert and witness, so you brats had better not be trying something…unwise."

He motioned them to sit at the table. Winky scrambled up eagerly followed by Dobby. The rest of them followed. Mr. Malfoy looked at Winky critically but studiously ignored the presence of his previous house elf. Dobby in turn seemed not to know whether to cower in fear or to challenge his former master. He too attempted to not acknowledge Malfoy but kept shifting his feet nervously.

"You were previously Crouch's house elf?" Lucius Malfoy asked Winky.

"Yes, sir. Winky will serve master faithfully. Winky is a good elf. Poor master. Now Winky has no family," she squeaked.

"I heard that Bartimous Crouch dismissed you," accused Malfoy.

Winky hung her head in shame. "Winky did everything she could to serve master faithfully. Poor weak Winky not strong enough. Winky in wrong place and wrong time. Winky is a good elf. Winky will serve new master well, you will see…"

"If that is so why don't you perform the ritual to fully bind yourself to my house? Why insist on the temporary contract?" Lucius asked.

"Winky's friends insist, sir. Winky's friends good but Winky needs family. Winky thinking maybe it is a good idea to see if Winky makes a good house elf for Malfoy family before saying ritual. It is a good for you too, sir. To see if Winky is the right elf for you."

After a time, Malfoy nodded, "Perhaps a trial period is best. I wouldn't want to commit to having and inferior house elf."

"Winky will work very hard!" assured Winky.

"Even with a temporary contract?" asked Malfoy.

"Oh yes, master will not even be knowing that contract is there. Winky will be just like any other house elf."

"And will anyone else be able to detect that you are not a standard house elf?"

"No, no only you and Winky and witnesses need ever know," Winky said eagerly.

This answer seemed to please Malfoy. "When you are in my house elf, you are to tell no one that you are under contract. That includes them too," said Malfoy glaring at the students.

"You're just afraid to let anyone else find out that you can't get a house elf by normal means," said Hermione.

"Trust me, you don't want me to back up my threat with something other than 'normal means'," Lucius snarled. In spite of themselves, they all shrank away from his baleful stare.

The bartender stuck his ugly face around the door jamb and asked if they needed anything. Mr. Malfoy went over and spoke to him quietly. The bartender nodded once and left. Then the hooded man seated at the table gave a grunt and set the parchment aside.

"Is it all in order?" Lucius Malfoy asked. The man made a notice that Malfoy interpreted as an affirmative because he nodded in satisfaction. "Good let's get it over with."

The bartender reappeared with several flasks, miss-matched glasses, an ink pot and a quill on a tray.

"Anything else, sir?" the misshapen man asked licking his lips nervously as he set the tray on the table.

"That will be all. Leave us," Malfoy commanded and the bartender did.

Winky bounded forward eagerly and with a heave yanked the stopper from the ink bottle. She dipped the quill and practically skipped toward the parchment and laboriously wrote her name at the bottom. Instead of black, the letters glowed as if molten gold. Then she bowed and handed the quill to Mr. Malfoy. Malfoy took it and they watched as he signed his name next to Winky's. The letters of his name glowed too.

He thrust the quill at Harry with a sneer. Hermione pointed to the place where witnesses were to sign and Harry added his glowing name to the parchment, followed by Ron and Hermione's signature. Then Malfoy's companion took the quill and wrote his name. Harry leaned forward trying to read the man's name but instead of English the man had signed with a series of cryptic ruins. Harry looked at Hermione who gave the barest shake of her head.

"Now Winky house elf!" cried Winky happily.

Malfoy's companion grunted and uttered some unintelligible syllables and Malfoy moved to the glasses.

"Not quite," he amended. "It is my witnesses' custom to seal all binding contracts with a drink or the signature is considered incomplete. That is why I asked the bartender to bring something."

Malfoy's witness stood and poured some of the red liquid into the waiting glasses. He then poured some Butterbeer into two small ones for the house elves. He thrust the glasses at them and then croaked, "Drink,"

He and Malfoy raised their glasses and emptied them in on gulp. The house elves drained their tiny glasses. Winky eagerly and Dobby reluctantly.

The students looked at each other for a moment, shrugged and drank. Harry made a face at the bitter taste of the liquid and gulped it down quickly. This was not a taste he wanted to savor. Hermione coughed until Ron thumped her on the back.

Then their names on the parchment flared brightly as if on fire for a second or two and then rapidly faded until they looked like ordinary ink again.

"Done," announced Malfoy, "Let's get out of here. Come elf."

Malfoy and his companion set their glasses down on the table and without a further word turned and left. Winky called a hasty goodbye and scampered after them, a large grin plastered on her face.

Dobby called out worriedly after her. "Remember you don't have to stay!"

Winky gave one last cheerful wave and vanished. Dobby stood staring miserably after her, twisting his hat in his hands. Two large tears spilled from his eyes and splashed down the front of his shirt. Harry bent and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't think there was anything you could have done to stop her. But at least now she has a way out," Hermione said in an attempt to be comforting.

Dobby grabbed Harry's knees again and sobbed loudly. Harry tried to console the elf hoping that his display would not attract unwanted notice.

"I think we'd better go too," said Ron, "This place gives me the creeps."

Dobby blew his nose. Harry wished he would do it quietly. He wanted to leave as unobtrusively as possible. Dobby led the way from the room. The other patrons gave them brief if unpleasant glances and turned back to their own interests. None of them wanted any part in Mr. Malfoy's business.

Harry was worried about getting back to Hogwarts safely, but under Dobby's protection they were able to return to their common room without any further adventures. Chilled and tired, Harry, Ron, and Hermione bid each other good night with the intent on getting between warm sheets as quick as possible.


End file.
